


Love Story

by 30degreesandsnowing



Series: Love Story [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Popstar!Blaine, famous!seblaine, one sided Klaine, popstar!sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30degreesandsnowing/pseuds/30degreesandsnowing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Famous!Seblaine.  Sebastian Smythe decided to finish high school for a few reasons, and he would admit to none of them.<br/>-The first was because his best friend/schoolboy crush was at boarding school<br/>-Second was that his baby sister was diagnosed with leukemia<br/>-Third was the tabloid photograph of him and some Disney boytoy caught fucking in the backseat of the LA mayor’s prized Tesla car on Hollywood Boulevard.<br/>It might just be the best/worst/??? decision of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undercover Superstar

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea was taken from a Klaine gifset somewhere on Tumblr, but it turned into Seblaine, so I feel kind of bad for admitting it. Dedicated to Dolly, because she let me convince her to love Sebastian.
> 
> All of Sebastian's songs are from Taylor Swifts albums. I did tweak them, but I tried to keep as few lyrics in the story as possible because of reasons I can tell you about if you really want to know. The title is also from Taylor Swift, but the chapter titles are mine.
> 
> All of Blaine's songs are by Darren Criss, and were not tweaked (i don't think).
> 
> Sometimes I feel like I should apologize for this fic. It is shameless, self-indulgent fluff, involving a lot of cuddling boys and blushing. Forewarned is forearmed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian Smythe enrolls at Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio. Giving his best friend warning that he was about to crash his undercover identity probably would have been the kind thing to do.

 

 

Sebastian decided to finish high school for a few reasons, and he would admit to none of them.

The first was because his best friend/schoolboy crush was at boarding school when not flying all over the country rescuing kittens and performing in front of sold out stadium crowds.  Devon's life was pretty much the most hilarious thing Sebastian had ever seen, and his own life could only be better if he was a part of it.

Second was that his baby sister was diagnosed with leukemia.  She had the misfortune to live with his father and stepmother in Columbus, which was where his father had relocated the family after the scandal of divorcing his wife to marry his secretary.  Sebastian did not see the little girl nearly often enough as it was, and had offered to move all three of them into his Malibu mansion to be closer to LA's state of the art hospitals.  His father had decreed that one move in the last four years was more than enough.  It was fine.  Marina would probably prefer not to move across the country, anyway.

Third was the tabloid photograph of him and some Disney boytoy caught fucking in the backseat of the LA mayor's prized Tesla car on Hollywood Boulevard.

_"Is this was you call 'low-profile?'" Anita, his manager and mother hen, demanded._

_Sebastian eyed the full color front page picture, with words strategically arranged over himself and -- Jake?  John?  Something with a J, anyway -- critically.  "I've done worse," he pointed out.  "And I've had better."_

That was how he ended up enrolled in Dalton Academy in Westerville, Ohio.

His first day was spent closeted uncomfortably with his father and the school principal, going over the code of conduct and expectations and exactly how far he could push the faculty before his money and their patience ran out.  Dalton made a big deal out of her anti-bullying policies and harassment-free campus, and the staff zealously aimed to be sure that Sebastian was aware that he would not be able to ignore the system just because he was a chart-topping popstar.  "We don't often allow mid-semester transfers," said Doctor Voss.  "When we do, they usually come from ... troubled circumstances.  I hope, Mr. Smythe, you remember that several of your classmates are here to escape traumatic situations.  At Dalton Academy, we aim to provide a safe environment that heals and overcomes the wounds of the past."

Sebastian nodded agreeably.  "And I'm sure you give all students this lecture," he said, "and it's not special treatment based on what you've read in trashy tabloids."

After that, the meeting ended rather quickly.  He traded uncomfortable goodbyes with his father _("I don't know what you hope to accomplish, abandoning your only success in your entire life to go to boarding school, but don't you dare bring anymore stress into this family.  That means no drinking, no whoring, no drugs.  I won't hesitate to get a restraining order on you if Sheila or Marina even hints you're causing problems.")_ before being dismissed.

His father stalked out of the office like a house cat, wet from the rain and furious with the world for betraying his dignity.  Sebastian was sure that it had been his stepmother's idea to send him with Sebastian on the first day.  It was not like he needed his father around; if he had needed an adult present he would have brought his manager, not his father.  Sheila (rightfully) blamed herself for the rift between her husband and her stepson, and so whenever he and his father were in the same state, she tried to meddle.  Sebastian was not appreciative.

The door swung closed behind him, leaving Sebastian in the outer office to wait for his student guided tour of campus.  He spun on his heels to see if the boy had arrived yet, and brightened to see an extremely familiar, extremely attractive boy flirting easily with Dr. Voss's secretary.  Slate grey uniform pants were stretched tight across his ass, and the red sweater vest did good things to the breadth of his shoulders.  Usually, the boy wore tight polos and fitted sweaters that showed off his narrow waist and muscled arms, but the Dalton uniform was a good look, too.  Sebastian could appreciate the whole sexy blushing schoolboy thing.

Sebastian schooled his face to keep from smiling, and cleared his throat .  "Dr. Voss didn't mention that she'd booked the best ass in the place to show me around."

There was a moment of stunned silence before the secretary said, "You must be Sebastian Smythe.  The new student," in a voice like the Arctic tundra.

The student guide stood up straight from his lean over the desk and turned.  His neck and ears and cheeks were bright with embarrassed color.  Once he saw Sebastian, his mouth fell open and he sputtered in surprise.  "B-Bas?"

Sebastian lost the fight, and his face broke into a grin. "Hello, Killer."

After a moment, presumably to process the shock, Devon said again, "Bas?"  He looked as though he could not decide to be wary or pleased.  "What are you doing here? I thought you were still in LA?"

"You _know_ each other?" the secretary asked, her eyes wide and searching from Sebastian to Devon.

The most hilarious thing about Devon's life was that he actually was an undercover superstar.  Most of the world was unaware that while he may have been Devon, teen heartthrob and platinum-record selling artist by night, by day he was Blaine Anderson, Average High School Student.  Average High School students, of course, did not know multi-Grammy winning artists like Sebastian Smythe.

He was pretty much Sebastian's favorite person, ever.

"Um," said Devon.

"He comes to every behind-the-scenes meet and greet in the state." Sebastian took pity on Devon.  It was a little unfair to spring himself on the other boy and expect him to come up with a cover story.  Also, Devon probably would have said that they had met at a benefit or something, and what was the fun in that?  "He's my absolute number one fan."

"And you remember him?  That's so sweet!" the secretary said, now sugary and warm.  "I knew none of the things they tell about you in the papers were true."

Devon coughed and said, "He's something else, I know."  He grabbed Sebastian's arm and dragged him forward.  "I'll just start that tour, now."

Once in the hall and tucked into a corner away from prying eyes, Devon turned on Sebastian.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.  He must have decided to be wary.  Sebastian frowned.

"I'm going to school," Sebastian said.  "I've realized the importance of education, and vowed to graduate high school.  Only I'm not going to pretend that I don't have a multi-million dollar mansion in Malibu and a separate room for all my Grammys and awards."

Devon peered up at him through black-framed glasses. "This is punishment because I called Anita when we crashed into that parking meter, isn't it?"

Actually, Sebastian had forgotten about that.  "No, but that will come," he said.  "Come on, Killer, it's been weeks.  Don't I get a hug, not an interrogation?"

Devon sighed, but obliged, letting the subject drop.  He stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Sebastian's shoulders.  Sebastian nuzzled closer, smelling raspberries and Devon, and was content just to hold on.

All the words in his head _('it's just a routine test,' 'acute lymphoblastic leukemia,' 'you're your mother's problem', 'I won't hesitate to get a restraining order,')_ that had kept him from sleeping, sent his spiraling into places and bodies he usually had enough sense to avoid, all quieted.  Devon was small and strong, and he easily took Sebastian's weight.  Sebastian's tight shoulders eased, the ache in his jaw faded, and the constant pulse of pain behind his eyes dulled.  Devon's hands rubbed soothing circles up and down his back.  He buried his face in the space between Devon's jaw and neck and breathed deep and slow.

Then he sneezed.  "I forgot how much gel you use undercover," he said, and rubbed his nose against Devon's collar to get rid of the gel now coating it.

Devon made a face, and pulled back.  "I like it," he said, resettling his glasses on his face.  "And I'm pretty sure no one here even realizes my hair is curly."

"That thought actually makes me want to cry," Sebastian mused.  "Did you get new glasses?"

The last time he had seen Devon in glasses had been in an LA hotel room, when Sebastian's fling had fallen asleep in his hotel room and would not wake up and be moved, so he had crashed with Devon.  Devon had answered the door in pajamas, his hair frizzy from sleep and his wire-framed glasses crooked on his face.  The new frames were thick and black instead of small and wiry, but still tinted.  Supposedly it was to disguise the brilliant gold and green on his irises.  They did nothing to dim his attractiveness.  Sebastian had no idea how the world was fooled by a school uniform and some hair gel, but Devon had been attending Dalton since his freshman year, and no one was the wiser.

Except for Sebastian.

“I did,” Devon said.  “Do you like them?”

“Sexy schoolboy works for you, Dev,” Sebastian said, just to watch to pink flood his friend’s cheeks.  He laughed lightly.  ”Are you going to show me around this place?" Midmorning sunlight flooded the wide windows and set the oak paneling and painted murals glowing.

Devon grabbed his hand and towed him forward.  Sebastian's heart did a stupid little flutter in his chest.

"Alright," Devon said, amusement coloring his tone.  "I'm Blaine Anderson, and I'll be your guide today.  Dalton Academy was founded in . . ."

Sebastian let his voice drift into background noise, and focused on soaking it all in.

Devon.  Dalton.  Ohio.  Something good was going to come of all this.  He was positive.

It had to get better at some point, right?

Then, he found out about Kurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited 10/9/2013


	2. The Most Interesting Boy in Ohio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian settles into life at Dalton. This involves autograph mobs, secret staircases, and Devon's more or less undivided attention. Things couldn't be better ... except for this Kurt kid. Who the hell is Kurt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> '50 Ways to Say Goodbye' belongs to Train

The rest of day one at Dalton went well. Devon spent most of the day taking him around the residential and academic campuses, showing him the best way to the fifth floor and which building had the best cafeteria (there were three cafeterias: one vegetarian, one in the dormitory, and one on the academic campus, as well as a little coffee shop in the administrative building). Then, Devon told Sebastian he was going to be trusted with Devon’s secret hideout.

“Are you serious, Killer?” Sebastian demanded as they trekked across the frozen grounds to the dorms.

Devon said, “I think you’ve proven yourself trustworthy and capable of keeping secrets.”

Sebastian fought through his grin to say, “I was actually referring to your secret hideout. What school has a secret hideout?”

The other boy gestured around them, at the clusters of ivy and brick buildings, the formal gardens, and barren oak trees around them. “We have a fifth floor that can only be reached by going through a classroom. Of course we have secret passages.”

“I still feel like Ashton Kutcher is about to ambush me with a camera.”

“Would I joke about a secret passage?” Devon asked.

Sebastian was forced to admit he would not. They entered the dormitory, which was darker than the main buildings, with heavy tapestries on the walls and mahogany accents instead of oak. The first thing that Sebastian had done, even before the meeting with the principal, was make sure his belongings had arrived safely in his dorm room, so he had already walked through the dining hall and common room. Obligingly, Devon skipped that part of the tour and lead him straight toward the stairs to the second floor, pointing out a painting every now and then, and letting him know that only a percentage of students actually dormed.

“We have about 250 students,” Devon told him. “Most are day students, but there’s about thirty-ish in the dorms with us.”

“I know, I know,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I did actually read what they sent me.”

Devon raised a disbelieving brow at him. Sebastian stuck out his tongue.

“You promised me a secret passage, not a lecture on demographics.”

“No reason I can’t do both,” Devon objected, but Sebastian noted they picked up the pace, and Devon pulled him up the stairs without discussing the wood relief paneling on the walls.

The second floor was less ostentatious than the first. The woodwork still glowed softly in the afternoon light, but it was not carved with elaborate vines and shapes. There were still heavy fabric wall hangings, but they were a little more faded and prone to depict less complicated patterns. Every ten feet or so there was a solid wood door, a number in brass fixed to the front.

As they came to the end of the hallway, Sebastian said, “So where exactly is this –” He fell silent when Devon shushed him.

Devon stopped at the end of the hallway, across from the lavatory, in front of a tapestry that took up most of the space between the last dorm and what looked like a supply closet. He glanced quickly around and, seeing no one, pushed aside a tapestry and disappeared. Sebastian stared for a moment, and then slipped after him.

He found a recessed door that Devon was holding open for him after the tapestry. Behind the door was a narrow stairway, badly lit and a little dusty. Sebastian could see Devon practically vibrating in excitement. He reached out and grabbed Devon’s hand, squeezing tight, and Devon grinned up at him.

“There’s a skylight that lets in some sun,” Devon said, letting the door swing shut being them. “But if you come up here at night, bring a flashlight. There are no lights, and the stairs are steep.” He started up the stairs, and Sebastian followed.

“They’re only steep if you’re pocket-sized.”

“I will push you down these stairs,” Devon threatened. “Then you’ll see how steep they are.”

“No, you won’t,” Sebastian said confidently. “You’d miss me too much.”

Devon gave an inelegant snort, and let go of Sebastian’s hand to pull a key out of his pocket.

“You have a key to your secret hideout?” Sebastian asked, not at all surprised, as Devon unlocked the door at the top of the stairs.

“What the janitor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Devon muttered.

Sebastian grinned. “How unlike you, Dev. Did you steal it?”

“Shut up,” Devon said, the tips of his ears turning red.

Sebastian laughed with delight. “You did! Just wait, Killer. Pretty soon you’ll be staying out all night and skipping classes.”

“You are such a bad influence,” Devon said, mournfully, and pushed open the door.

The open door revealed a little room with ghost-like armchairs and a table and shelves along the walls. There were wide, stained glass windows high on the wall that spilled out colored light, and dusty footprints on the floor. There was a standing lamp by the only chair not covered with a protective sheet, but it was not very bright, and even after Devon turned it on, the edges of the room bled into shadow.

“Huh,” said Sebastian. “Need’s some cleaning.”

Devon said, “It’s a room you can only access through a secret staircase. Cleaning it hasn’t exactly been my priority.”

Sebastian took a few more steps into the room. “What has been your priority?” he asked, looking around. There was a stack of thin paperbacks and magazines on one of the end tables. Sebastian cocked his head as he read the covers. “The Flash … Goosebumps … are you actually five?”

Devon said, “I am sharing my secret hideout with you. No mockery allowed.”

Sebastian said, “Do we have code names and a special handshake?” and laughed until Devon rolled his eyes with fond exasperation.

“You are the worst,” Devon said. “I have no idea why I put up with you.”

Day two, it got around the school that Sebastian Smythe was enrolled at Dalton as a student. It was actually pretty hysterical. He had a single dorm, and Devon knocked on his door in the morning before classes so they could breakfast together. When Sebastian opened the door, he felt a familiar rush of warm regard and desire spill through him at the sight of his friend.

“Good morning, Killer,” Sebastian said, a little breathlessly. There had been a small part of him that had worried Devon would not want to be seen with him for fear his secret identity would come out.

The corners of Devon’s bright eyes crinkled as he smiled up at Sebastian. “Good morning, Bas. Would you like to eat breakfast with me?”

Sebastian said, “Did you really need to ask?”, threw on his blazer, and guided Devon down to the dining hall with one hand on the other boy’s back.

When they got to the dining hall, there were far more than thirty faces looking eagerly at the door as they walked in. Every single table was filled past capacity. Sebastian was little taken aback, because he was pretty sure the entire student body, plus most of the teachers, was crammed into the small dormitory cafeteria.

“Dev?” he whispered under his breath.

Devon glared.

“Sorry. Killer?”

“Were you really expecting anything differently?” Devon whispered back.

Okay, that was a fair point. Sebastian should have been more surprised that this had not happened yesterday. He was kind of a Big Deal. Still, the two might have to go up to Devon’s secret hideout to find a place to sit and eat.

Devon stepped away from his arm to lead them around the edge of the crowd into the serving line. He and Sebastian filled their trays and came out to find that one table had been abandoned while they had been getting food. Sebastian frowned, looking at the table, and then gave in to the silent pressure and lead his friend over to their expected place.

Once they sat down, the people around them started whispering furiously. Sebastian started to ignore them and eat, but was distracted by the small smile growing on Devon’s lips.

“Blaine,” Sebastian started to say, but Devon just pointed.

Sebastian turned to the open area by the doors, and found a dozen boys neatly dressed in the Dalton blazer, who seemed to be waiting for some kind of cue. Sebastian was just about to ask what was going on, when one of the boys stepped forward, and started to sing.

_“My heart is paralyzed, my head was oversized_

_I’ll take the high road like I should.”_

It was an a capella arrangement of Train’s ’50 Ways to Say Goodbye.’

Sebastian bent close so he could whisper in Devon’s ear, and still watch the performance. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Devon whispered back. Sebastian’s heart started to pound as the other boy breathed the words against his cheek. “I don’t have anything to do with the Warblers.”

Sebastian nodded, and dragged his full attention to the choir. They were pretty good, he had to admit. When Sebastian had been in grade school, before he had been discovered and whisked off to LA, he had been in choir. That experience looked nothing like what the – the Warblers, that was what Devon had called them – the Warblers were doing. It was more like the chorus line on a Broadway Show than a boys’ chorus on risers singing hymns.

“They’re impressive, aren’t they?” Devon whispered to him.

Sebastian saw the longing on his face. “Why don’t you join?”

“I can’t sing,” Devon said. Sebastian choked on his toast. Devon kicked him in the shin, and turned back to the Warblers.

When they finished, he complimented the group. “Not bad. Do you do this often?”

The lead soloist blushed. “We have three performances at school a year, and we’re part of a national competition.”

Sebastian asked, “Do you win?”

“Not as often as we’d like,” said another boy, dark eyes unabashedly studying Sebastian. Huh. Anita sometimes looked at Sebastian the same way, like she was analyzing him and his actions and ability. Sebastian looked at the choir again. “Sebastian Smythe,” he introduced himself, and held out his hand to the dark-eyed boy.

“Wes Montgomery,” said the boy, shaking his hand firmly. “We’re looking for new talent. We won Sectionals last week, so now would be the best time to integrate new members.”

Sebastian held Wes’ gaze. “Why do you need talent if you just won your last competition?”

Wes said, “We can win Regionals without you, I know that. But Vocal Adrenaline has taken nationals the last seven years running. I’d like to change that.”

Sebastian considered. “Tell you what,” he said. “Ask me again once I’ve been here more than a day.”

Wes laughed, and the Warblers took that as their cue to get excited. As if that had been the signal everyone was waiting for, the rest of the crowd then surged up and demanded autographs and pictures. Devon eventually pulled him out and dragged him to class. Sebastian wrapped one arm around the other boy’s waist and enjoyed the high from good music and a hundred stuttering fans and Devon, solid and warm against him.

Day three of his new school career arrived, and Sebastian was happy with the way things were going. His teachers seemed torn between treating him with kid gloves (because he was a pop star) and treating him like he needed a firm hand and a lot of discipline (because he was a pop star). The students still seemed to be in delirious shock. After Devon had been forced to rescue him from the first autograph mob, the other boy managed to guilt trip the entire school into leaving Sebastian alone except for during dinner, when all bets were off and he spent the entire time on autographs and photos. It was great for his ego.

Kurt, 'the single most interesting boy in all of Ohio,' was not

“Who exactly is Kurt?” Sebastian demanded. He was laying on Devon's – no, Blaine, he had to remember to call him Blaine – Blaine's dorm bed, watching his friend double check his hair and cardigan. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating?”

Devon looked at him through the mirror. “It’s not a date,” he said slowly. “And Kurt’s a friend. He goes to school a couple towns over.”

“You took twenty minutes to pick out a bowtie,” Sebastian pointed out.

Devon blushed, and Sebastian bit his tongue. He was aware he was being a little ridiculous, but he felt possessive, and Devon was blushing and fixing his hair for some kid he had never heard of. Sebastian was supposed to make Devon stutter and blush. Who the hell was Kurt?

“I still don’t know who this Kurt is,” Sebastian said aloud.

“He’s amazing,” Devon said. “He’s an artist, he does fashion design, and his voice is stunning. I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

Oh really.

“He’s … he’s the most interesting person I’ve met in Ohio,” Devon continued, softer.

"It's not like he has a whole lot of competition," Sebastian pointed out. "It's _Ohio_."

"Well, you're here in _Ohio_." Devon grinned, and turned to look at him. "So I suppose you're right, it's not stiff competition."

Sebastian grinned back. "Feeling feisty, Killer?"

Devon turned back to the mirror. "I cannot tell a lie," he sing-songed, and fidgeted with his bowtie

"Liar!" Sebastian accused. "And stop primping. You look gorgeous. I don't understand how this kid hasn't jumped you, yet."

Devon looked uncomfortable. "It's complicated," he said, softly.

Sebastian rolled off the bed so he could come up behind Devon and tuck the smaller boy into his arms. "Killer, you are sex on a stick, with or without hair gel. If he can't see that, why don't you stay here tonight, and I'll spend the time proving it to you?"

Devon rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why I haven’t mentioned him before."

"What?" Sebastian asked, swallowing down the ache of rejection with practiced ease. "Are you deliberately keeping us apart, Anderson?" He squeezed Devon's shoulders tighter.

Devon settled against him, snuggling close. "He'd probably run off with you.”

“Maybe he’d be up for a threesome,” Sebastian mused. “What do you say? You, me, and Kurt makes three?”

Devon shook his head. "You are so out there," he said. "What are you even doing here in Ohio? Sometimes I think LA isn't ready for you."

Sebastian grinned. "Are you sure I'm not the most interesting person in Ohio?"

Devon laughed. "Get out of here."

Sebastian let himself be pushed toward the door. "Promise you'll stop in for a goodnight kiss before bed?"

"You, my friend, are ridiculous," Devon said, and shooed him into the hall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter will be posted every week until it's completed.
> 
> Next week: Sebastian isn't sleeping well. It's a good thing he has a best friend around to cuddle and make it better.
> 
> Last edited: 10/9/2013


	3. Raspberries and Cologne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian hasn't been sleeping well, It's a good thing he has a best friend around to cuddle and make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Our Song" and "We are Never Ever Getting Back Together" belongs to Taylor Swift  
> "Not Alone" belongs to Darren Criss

Two weeks into his new life, Sebastian broke down Devon's door on Saturday morning and begged for coffee.

"Is there anyplace in this entire state that makes a decent dark roast?"

Devon, still in his pajamas with his hair a disastrous halo around his head, rubbed sleep from his eyes.  "Bas, it's five in the morning."

"I'm going through withdrawal," Sebastian told him.  "Coffee.  Please," he added, because Devon liked manners.

"We can't leave campus for another hour," Devon pointed out.

"It takes you an hour to get that hair under control, Killer.  Also, I'm pretty sure no one cares if we leave a little early."

Devon groaned, and tried to close the door in Sebastian's face.

Sebastian used his superior 'I've-been-up-all-night-and-am-in-that-slightly-manic-stage-don't-test-me' reflexes to slip past him into the dorm.  Like Sebastian, Devon had a single room, but unlike Sebastian, he had actually decorated.  There were pictures of Devon's Dalton friends on the wall, posters of superheroes tacked up, and an awesome life-sized cutout of Sebastian, looking sultry and annoyed, on the back of his door.  Sebastian had signed it the first time he had seen it, much to Devon's amusement.

For all the knickknacks and photos, though, there was little of Devon's music.  There was a keyboard that he composed on in secret, but no guitar.  None of Devon's many awards decorated the shelves.  There was not even a print of stadium crowds and lights.  Devon took the separation of musician and schoolboy a little too seriously.

"I'm going back to bed," Devon announced, interrupting Sebastian's train of thought.

"No, you aren't," Sebastian said, and pushed Devon into the bathroom to get ready.

He lay down on Devon's bed to wait.  His eyes felt heavy and his bones ached, but he could not sleep.

He had gone to his father's the night before, to spend some time being yelled at and some more time with Marina.  She looked worse every time he saw her.  Before the diagnosis, she had looked fine.  The tests had simply been a precaution.  The first round of chemotherapy had changed that.  Now, during her second round of treatment, she was tired and listless.  Instead of asking Sebastian to spin her in circles, she curled in his lap and asked him to sing to her.

Last night, Marina had asked for a story, but Sebastian had not even gotten past "Once upon a time" before she fell into an exhausted, pained slumber.

Sebastian stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about it.  The bed shifted as the weight of another person dropped onto it.

"Bas, what’s wrong?" Devon asked, his voice low and soft, as he lay down next to Sebastian.

Sebastian turned to face him.  Devon's wild mane had been tamed into straight, sleek lines.  He was not wearing his glasses, and his eyes were gentle and worried.

"I couldn't sleep last night," Sebastian said.

"You don't have anywhere to be today.  You can sleep here."

Sebastian yawned.  "No.  I want good coffee.  You had good coffee Wednesday, and I want good coffee today."  He squirmed to get more comfortable, until Devon was pressed against him from thigh to shoulder.  Devon chucked, and Sebastian fell asleep.

The sounds of loud voices and a clattering in the halls woke him up, hours later.  Sebastian was too cozy to grumble at the noise, and instead rolled onto his stomach and snuggled with the covers.  Devon must have tucked him in; warm blankets were wrapped close around him, and his feet were definitely missing shoes.  The blankets smelled like raspberries and cologne.  For all the warmth and security of his bed, though, something was missing.

Devon was no longer on the bed.  Sebastian frowned and looked around for him.  The other boy was at his keyboard, headphones plugged in and alternating between scribbling madly in a notebook on his lap and playing silent notes.

"What time is it?"  Sebastian yawned.

Devon said, "There's a clock next to the bed," not even looking up from his work.

"That would require moving," Sebastian said.  He dug around his pocket until he found his phone.  "11," he announced.  "It's definitely time for coffee."  He rolled out of bed and fixed his hair and wrinkled clothes in the mirror.  "Come on, Killer, we don't have all day."  He found his shoes half under the bed, and slid into them.

Devon started to pack up his work.  "If you want good coffee, it's going to take some time," he warned.  "The best I know is an hour and a half away."

"Excellent," Sebastian said.  "Road trip.  We'll take my car."

Devon, as an Average High School Student, drove a Toyota Camry, the least cool car ever.  Sebastian had brought his Audi with him, though it mostly stayed covered in the student parking lot.  His stepmother had offered to let Sebastian store his car at the Columbus house, but Sebastian had not been interested. 

_“What would be the point in having a car if I had to take a taxi just to get to it?” he demanded of Sheila, back when she had first proposed the plan._

_“You could always be a day student,” Sheila said.  “But I actually thought you might not want to keep your car in the same lot as the rest of the boarders.  I know how much you dote on that thing.”_

_Sebastian did not dote on his car.  He just liked to keep it looking nice.  “Save it,” he told her.  “If someone scratches it, I’ll just sue.”_

"I wanted something a little less conspicuous.  If we take your Audi, we'll leave a trail of photographers all the way to Lima," Devon disagreed.

That was a fair point.  According to Devon, who had an in with the secretary, admission applications were up 200%, and most of the applicants were girls.  Once the tabloids and magazines found out that Sebastian was at Dalton, they had staked out the school for days.  The police had cleared them out every couple hours, and the commuters had to be chaperoned on and off campus.  Sebastian himself had given up trying to control the paparazzi a long time ago. Their relationship was this: he thought, ‘fuck this, it’s my life,’ and lived his life like they were not there.  The paparazzi took shameless advantage.

However, the less attention he attracted, the less likely it was for some genius intern to put "Blaine Anderson" and his hair gel together with "Devon" and his skintight jeans.

"I still get to drive," Sebastian compromised generously.

Devon locked his notes in a file cabinet in his closet, and then tossed him the keys.  "Don't get pulled over," he directed, slipping on his glasses.

They listened to the radio on the way to Lima, and sang each other's songs when they played.  Devon butchered "We are Never Ever Getting Back Together" and Sebastian retaliated by singing "Not Alone" like a funeral dirge.  Sebastian took a call from Anita, who asked if he wanted to do a charity gig for a school in Alabama, and Devon pried out details about the tabloid incident that had sent him to Ohio.

"Jaimie Gelleher?  Really?  You told me you thought he was actually a girl," Devon laughed.

"He pretty much is," Sebastian said.  "It was not one of my better dates."

"Sex in the backseat is not a date," Devon teased.

"That's pretty much all my dates," Sebastian objected.

"And none of them are dates.  So Anita sent you here as what, punishment?  How are your dad and step-mom taking you being so close?" Devon asked.

Sebastian shrugged, and focused on passing an SUV that was going just a mile over the speed limit.  "Sheila wanted me to commute.  She’s mostly given that up, but she’s still trying to get me to spend weekends at home.  That's usually the part of the conversation when Father starts drinking."

"And Marina?" Devon asked.

Sebastian hesitated.  "She's fine," he finally said, even as he pictured her sunken eyes and papery skin.

"Liar," Devon told him, gentle and kind.

"Fine.  She's happy that I'm around more, but ... she's sick.  She's not doing well with the treatment.  She spends most of the time sleeping."  Sebastian scowled out the windshield and wondered how Devon always managed to get him to talk. 

Devon reached out and squeezed his hand.  Sebastian tangled their fingers together and felt a little better.

"It's nice having you here," Devon said, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a rampaging rhino.

“It has been one of my better plans,” Sebastian agreed.

Devon laughed.  "Praise junkie.”

“You said it first,” Sebastian pointed out.  “I just don’t believe in false modesty.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Devon gave in.  “It’s nice to have someone who I don't have to ..." he drifted off, but Sebastian could supply the rest of the sentence.

Someone he did not have to pretend around.  Devon was always hiding half of himself away.  He was Devon onstage, in LA, on TV.  He had a whole circle of friends and hangers-on who only knew that bubbly, sexy, larger than life personality.  Here in Ohio, he was only Blaine, and his friends knew nothing of the passion for music and the life he had built for himself outside of Dalton's walls.  Sebastian had known both halves for their entire friendship.

"And here I was worried you were going to spend all your days avoiding me.  Actually, I had some sexy scenarios in my head, where you went sidling down hallways and I chased after.  We usually ended up in an empty classroom."

He watched Devon flush and stutter, "Y-you're crazy."

"I know," Sebastian said, too quiet to be heard, and turned the radio up.  "You're up, Killer."

Devon smirked.  _"You were riding shotgun with your hair undone in the front seat of my car,"_ he sang in the worst French accent Sebastian had ever heard.

It went both ways, of course.  Devon never had to pretend around Sebastian, could be comfortable in their friendship and confident that Sebastian would keep his secrets.  Sebastian never felt judged by Devon, never felt like he was wrong for his actions, never felt like his sex life was some sort of problem.  When they had first met, Devon had been an amusing diversion.  Later, he was a much-needed shield against the entire world.  Now, he was the best thing to ever happen to Sebastian.

“One day, I’m going to post a Vine of you like this,” Sebastian said, when Devon paused for breath.  “Let’s see how many love letters you get once the internet knows what you really sound like.”

“Sebastian,” Devon said kindly.  “You say this like I haven’t posted a video like that myself.

Sebastian threw back his head, and laughed.

They were both laughing when they finally got to the Lima Bean (" _Is that really the name?  I can't decide if that's clever or kitschy_ ").

"You wouldn't dare."  Devon grinned as they walked into the building.  Their game of one-upmanship had reached new levels that included before-the-stylist-came photos and bad poetry with triple-cross promises to never be mentioned in company, ever.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Sebastian asked archly.  "Would you care to place a wager on that?"

"I still have those photos of you and that girl from New Years.  Don't push me, Smythe."

"I've had worse printed," Sebastian said, which was true.

Devon said, “Not in the last year, you haven’t," which was also true.  He turned to the barista.  "Can I have a medium drip?  And a large red eye for my friend, please."

The cafe was busy, with most of the tables filled with large groups of teenagers giggling over their drinks.  Sebastian placed his hand on Devon's back to guide him through the crowd to the counter where their drinks would end up.

Sebastian said, "This coffee better be worth it.  I swear, there's more people crammed in this shop than the last club I was in."  There were more than half a dozen people waiting with them, and Sebastian eyed an infant on his father’s shoulder suspiciously.

"It's worth it," Devon promised.

"Blaine!" a voice came from across the room, before Sebastian could respond.

Both Devon and Sebastian turned to look for the voice.  Sebastian did not see anyone, but Devon's face lit up and he waved.  Sebastian watched, amused, as Devon conducted an elaborate mime that probably meant the two of them would join whoever was so desperately calling as soon as possible.

“A friend?” Sebastian asked, dodging around the man and infant in front on them as their drinks were announced.

“Yes,” Devon said happily, accepting his coffee.  “Come on.  You get your wish.  You’re going to meet Kurt Hummel.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sebastian, meet Kurt. Kurt, meet Sebastian.
> 
> Also available on Tumblr @ thisisforficiswear.tumblr.com


	4. Mutual Discourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian, meet Kurt. Kurt, meet Sebastian.

Coffee in hand, Devon headed straight for a table near the far window, where a handful of teenagers were seated with shopping bags and coffee cups.  Sebastian trailed after.  So this was Kurt, the boy Devon had been blushing over.  At least he had good taste in coffee.

"Kurt!" Devon said.

A boy, a willowy brunette who was so flaming gay he unironically wore a neckerchief, stood and hugged him.

"I didn't know you were coming to Lima today," said Kurt, in a high, breathy voice that did not fit at all with the image of "Kurt" Sebastian had built up in his head these past few weeks.

Really?  This was Devon's type?

"Bas wanted coffee," Devon explained, and stepped back so he could introduce Sebastian.  "Kurt, this is Sebastian.  Bas, this is Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Tina Cohen-Chang, and Mercedes Jones."

"Charmed," Sebastian said, easily.

"Wait," said Tina, her dark eyes going wide as she looked from Sebastian to Devon.  "Is that Sebastian Smythe?"

"I'd heard he was going to school in Ohio, but he's here at the Lima Bean?  With Blaine?"  said Mercedes.

Rachel squeaked.

"He can hear everything you say," Devon said, his voice so mild that none of the girls probably realized he was teasing them.

"It's always nice to meet my fans," Sebastian said, smiling.

"Oh, we aren't fans," Kurt said, coldly.

Sebastian leaned back on his heels, raising one brow challengingly, and Tina gave a nervous chuckle.

"That would be an understatement," she said quickly.  "I've loved you since 'Our Song' was released.  I've been to all your concerts in Columbus."

Her attempt to play peacemaker worked.  Rachel and Mercedes jumped in with questions and compliments, leaving Devon free to talk quietly with Kurt to one side.

Sebastian settled against the table and let the girls monopolize his attention.  Several people around them in the cafe were whispering excitedly, and he noticed more than one flash go off as people took pictures.  He had a feeling it was going to be a long afternoon.

“I can’t believe I’m getting coffee with Sebastian Smythe,” Mercedes marveled.  “Can I get a picture?”

“Just don’t post it until after I get out of here.” Sebastian obliged, leaning across the small table so he could fit in the frame with the girl.

“I won’t!” Mercedes said, wide eyed.

“How did you meet Blaine?” Tina asked, once Sebastian was upright.

“We’re both at Dalton,” Sebastian said.  “It turns out that he’s their go-to guy for student tours.  Possibly because he’s the only one in the school who actually knows about 19th century relief carving.”

“Quiet, you,” Devon said, and went right back to talking to Kurt like he had never interrupted himself.

Sebastian stuck his tongue out at the back of his friend’s head.  “He’s not bad, even if he does use an entire bottle of product in the morning.”

The girls giggled.

“So why are you here in Ohio?” Mercedes asked.  “I mean, it seems like an odd place to go when you have a beachfront home in Malibu, a penthouse apartment in New York, and two more in Paris and Venice.”

“I sold the place in New York!” Sebastian objected.  “And I had almost forgotten about Venice.  How did you know about Venice?  Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”  He laughed as Mercedes flushed.  “I have family around here.  When I decided to take a break and finish high school, it just made sense to take some time with my family, too.”

Rachel, who had been mostly silent up until that point, finally burst out, “Can I meet your agent?  Is she accepting new talent?  I’m sorry, I’m Rachel Berry,” and here she thrust out her hand for Sebastian to shake.  “I’m going to be a famous Broadway star, and I wanted to know if you had any tips for an aspiring singer.”

Sebastian blinked, detangling his hand from hers.  “Advice?  Well, don’t give up.  Everyone you meet will be against you.  When they put you down, use it as fuel and rub it in their face.”  He considered for another moment, taking a bit of cookie off Rachel’s plate even as she nodded enthusiastically.  Mercedes and Tina looked slightly horrified.  “Sing every chance you get.  Sing at weddings, sing at bars, sing at karaoke night and at coffee shops.  Sing when they boo you off stage, and get up there and sing the next day.  Just sing.”  He hesitated, then added, “and if there’s one person in your life who makes it brighter, and is always there for you, and is always on your side, don’t lose them.”  He refrained from looking at Devon.

The three girls melted.  “Are you talking about –” Mercedes started, but was cut off by Devon.

"Hey, I'm going to get Kurt and the girls refills.  Do you want anything while I'm up there?"

"Food," Sebastian said, flatly.  He stole another piece of Rachel's cookie off her plate.

Devon smiled.  "Will do.  See if you can get us some chairs, alright?"  He threaded his way back to the front counter.

Sebastian turned his smile on the table beside them, and got two more chairs.  He dragged them close to the table, between Tina and Kurt, tossed his coat onto one to save it for Devon, and tucked his long limbs into the other.

This time, Tina squeaked, turning bright fuscha now that she pressed against him shoulder to thigh in the crowded cafe.

"Hi again," Sebastian said to her, fighting back a smirk.  She gulped.

"Hi," she said back, staring into his eyes.  “Can I get a picture, too?”

Sebastian started to say yes, but was interrupted.

"Let's get one thing straight," Kurt said, his voice once again bitingly cold.

Sebastian turned from Tina to face the other boy.

"I know why you're here," Kurt continued, "And it's not going to work.  Blaine isn't one of your Hollywood whores.  He won’t sleep with you because of cheap moves and bad music.  Why don’t you skedaddle back to your gold-plated bathrooms and leave Blaine alone."

Really, what did Devon see in him?  He was not attractive, he sounded like a girl, and he was more judgmental that Sebastian.  And Sebastian did not have gold plated bathrooms; that was just tacky.

"Well, as hot as Blaine must find your desire to control who he can and can't be friends with, I'm going to have to say no.  I'm pretty sure you're just a prude projecting your own fears about sex and your inability to get fucked because you look like a thirteen year old girl onto someone who is sexy, successful, and definitely not a virgin."

Kurt went white, and then red, and Sebastian could almost see steam pouring out of his ears.

"Okay!" Rachel said.  "I respect both of your opinions and approve of mutual discourse as a problem-solving method, but I think that if we don't talk about something else, this conversation is going to end up on the news tonight, and that is not how I want to get my first national television appearance."

Sebastian glanced around to see the people at the tables around them were quiet and staring at them.  Most looked away when Sebastian met their eyes, but some, like the couple three tables over, were unashamed or even filming the entire scene.  Sebastian waved to the camera.

Kurt flushed brighter.  "I haven't said anything I don't stand by," he said defiantly.

"Are you talking about your obsession with Lady Gaga, again?" Devon asked, coming back with tray filled with drinks and food.  He set the tray on the table and nodded his thanks to Sebastian, who had stood to help pass everything around the group.

"No," Mercedes said, once Sebastian and Devon were seated again.  "We're talking about his obsession with Devon."

Sebastian, who had started attacking his sandwich as soon as Devon was settled, almost started choking.  Devon's ears turned red.

"Devon?" Sebastian demanded.

"I firmly believe he's one of the greatest musical talents in our generation," Kurt said swiftly.  "His lyrics are amazing, and his ability to combine jazz and Broadway standards with pop music is nothing less than genius."

"Well, we agree on something," Sebastian mused.  This was hilarious.  "Did you know he was such a fan?" he asked Devon.

Tina said, "As if anyone doesn't know about Kurt and Devon's legendary love affair."

"One day, we will meet, and he will realize we are soulmates," Kurt said.

"I'm sure," Devon said, sweetly.

Sebastian started laughing.  Devon kicked his chair.

"What?" Mercedes demanded, insulted by Sebastian's mirth.  "It's not like you've had any luck with the boy!"

"Actually, I was in his bed just a -- Ow!" Sebastian rubbed his thigh where Devon had pinched it.  "You are violent today," he muttered under his breath.

Devon said, "I think Devon just likes his privacy."

"I think someone at this table knows something he's not saying," Tina said, giving Sebastian a meaningful look.

Sebastian said, "Many things, most of which you're too young to know.  Did you mean something in particular?"

"Devon is not dating Sebastian Smythe," Kurt growled.

Tina looked at Sebastian.

"Sorry, ladies," he said.  "Devon would kill me if he knew I was gossiping about him.  If he was really upset, he might go into an interview and say I hurt his feelings, and his legion of fangirls would find me and gut me."

Kurt said, "We can only ho -OwW! Rachel!"

At the same time, Devon turned to Sebastian and smiled brightly.  "I'm sure your own legions would protect you."

"I can only hope," Sebastian said, gravely.

Kurt said, "Anyway, Blaine, Sugar couldn't come, something about her dad, so we have an extra ticket to so see Mama Mia at the community theater in an hour, if you want to come with us."

"Exciting," Sebastian muttered.

"Oh," Devon said, actually looking torn.  "I'd love to, but Bas and I only have the one car, and I can't abandon him in Lima for that long."

"I can drive you back to Dalton tomorrow," Kurt said.  "It's not a problem.  We were going to have a girls night, anyway."

Sebastian gagged.  "As banal and quaint as that sounds," he said, "Blaine and I have plans."

"We do?" Devon asked.

"We do," Sebastian confirmed.  "Don't look so scared, Killer, it's not even a little illegal."  Beside him, Tina started.

"Oh, well, in that case," Devon said dryly.

"It's the last weekend of the show," Kurt wheedled, glaring daggers at Sebastian.

"Is that for you, Popstar?" Mercedes interrupted.

The entire table turned in the direction she pointed.

A veritable horde of cameramen were in the parking lot, peering through the windows to see in side.  Some of them were gesticulating wildly, others were snapping photos with long lenses.  Sebastian turned away.

"Wow," Tina said.

"Photographers!" Rachel squealed.  "How's my hair?"

"Well, we weren't exactly being subtle." Devon chewed on his lower lip.  "Bas? Do you want to sneak out the kitchen or go straight through them."

If he had been out with anyone but Average High School Student Blaine Anderson, Sebastian would have gone straight through the paparazzi.  He probably would have (badly) answered a few questions, too, and ended up with Anita calling to dress him down when the story aired.  Devon always had been a good influence.

Except for that time they crashed into the parking meter.

"Want to make a break for it out the back?" he asked Devon.

"Or you could go alone, and Blaine could come with us," Kurt challenged.

That - he had not considered that.  Would Devon consider that?

"Let me be the one to talk to the girl behind the counter," Devon said, as though he had not heard a work Kurt said.  "Come on, Bas, let's see if you can outrun the crazed mob."

"Blaine," Kurt objected.

Devon's face softened, looking down at Kurt.  His eyes were large and made promises Kurt did not seem capable of recognizing, much less reciprocating. 

"We'll see something on Broadway over break," Devon said.  "Christmas isn't that far away."

"Come on, Killer," Sebastian said, helping Devon into his coat, and, conveniently, drawing him away from Kurt.  "Go convince the manager to help us sneak out."

"Be prepared to sign something," Devon warned, as he headed for the counter.

"You really want to make him go through that?" Kurt demanded, gesturing wildly at the papparazzi.

Sebastian paused in pulling on his own coat."I don't make D-Blaine do anything.  He's old enough to make his own choices."  He finished buttoning and turned and followed Devon up to the counter, to help charm the manager and escape.

"So, was the coffee worth it?" Devon asked, once they were in the car and on the thruway, with no sign of pursuit.

Sebastian, who had relinquished the keys to Devon, snorted disparagingly.  "I've had better."

Devon gave him a look.

"But not in Ohio," he admitted.  "Do you think we could get them to deliver?"

Devon laughed.  "To Dalton?"

"Maybe I should get Anita to send me a PA," Sebastian mused.  Devon continued laughing quietly beside him.  Sebastian said, "Are you okay with not going with your girlfriend?"

"Sebastian," Devon sighed.  "Don't make comments like that.  And he's just my friend."

"All right, all right.  It's just the voice and girl's sweater honestly confused me," Sebastian professed. "And it's not for lack of trying on your part," Sebastian said, a little too harshly.  "You are really obvious, and he's an idiot.   And his hair is practically in another time zone."

"I like his hair!" Devon argued.  "It's so manageable."

"Hey.  Don't knock the curls."

"It would just be nice to have hair that didn't turn into a fluffy ball of static as soon as there was a little humidity."

"Hey," Sebastian said again, "Don't knock the curls."

Devon smiled.  "So where are we going?"

"Columbus," Sebastian said.  He had been expecting the question ever since he had told Devon they had plans.  He could have dragged Devon out for dancing, or to an actually decent show, or even just spent the night marathoning Marvel movies.  Instead, he said, "My father's house.  I want to see Marina."

 _I want you to meet Marina, just in case._   Devon probably knew what he was not saying.

Sebastian slouched down and stared out the window.  Devon reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Does she like ice cream?" he asked brightly.  "There's this great little dairy on the way that makes their own flavors.  Maybe we could pick some up?"

“No need,” said Sebastian.  “You’re more than enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sebastian had always sort of meant for Blaine to meet Marina. Now was as good a time as any, right?


	5. Hostile Takeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian had always sort of meant for Blaine to meet Marina. Now was as good a time as any, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to gleedimples on Tumblr for graciously offering to beta this unrepentantly, irredeemably fluffy piece of fiction. All mistakes are my own, anything decent is due to her time and influence.
> 
> And thanks, of course, to Dolly, because you are amazing and sweet and my favorite baby sister.

Marina Smythe was the only good thing that had come out of Sebastian's parent's divorce. She was five years old, green eyed and red haired, and covered in freckles and good cheer. For the first three years of her life, Sebastian had resented every mention of her. He ended up babysitting every day for a month one summer, and had been converted by her generous hugs and adorable giggle.

Now that he thought about it, that was pretty much how Devon's hostile takeover had gone. One second he was thinking about the other boy's ass and mouth and the next he was sighing over the way Devon's eyes sparkled when he laughed. Clearly, he had a weakness for bright smiles and warm hands.

Sebastian made an effort to visit his sister at least once a month. He usually flew into Columbus and rented a car, making a weekend trip in between recording his new album and sleeping his way through Hollywood's list of eligible men. Now that he boarded half an hour away from his father's sprawling estate, he visited twice a week or more.

His father's estate was large enough to be intimidating, locked behind a gate and guardhouse (though it was all automatic, and no guard was actually there), with a mile long driveway and acres of gardens. The house was stone Tudor, with thirty rooms and the air of a home that had been in the family for generations. Sebastian's father had bought it after the divorce.

Devon stopped outside the gatehouse so that Sebastian could enter his key, then drove up the long drive and parked close to the front porch.

Six months ago, Marina would have been waiting for him on the top step, and barreled down the front walk to meet Sebastian. She might have tripped on her way down, and Sebastian would have carried her into the house and bandaged her knee. He would have told her, "I should buy you a suit of armor," and kissed the scrapes better, as long as no would was there to see.

Today, the front stairs were empty. There were no lights on in the house. It looked lonely, cold, and intimidating.

Devon asked, "Is anyone home?"

Sebastian opened his door. "Sheila and Marina will be. I don't know about Father." He left the car and headed up the walk, speeding up once he heard Devon following close.

"I still feel like I should have brought a gift," Devon said.

Sebastian had vetoed the ice cream because Marina had a hard time digesting rich foods. "You don't need to bribe her to like you, Dev." He opened the front door and ushered Devon in. "After you."

The inside of the house was just as elegant and understated as the long drive and stonework. The foyer was stark white marble and rich mahogany wood. There was a large, framed portrait of Father, Sheila, and Marina on the far wall, flanked by curving staircases that wound upstairs to the second floor. The family bedrooms were on the second floor. Sheila kept talking about moving Marina into one of the first floor guest rooms, but no one wanted to admit Marina might be sick enough to require it.

Devon's indignant voice pulled Sebastian out of those dark thoughts. "It isn't bribery!"

Sebastian closed the door behind them. "You keep telling yourself that." He took Devon's coat and scarf and hung them with his own in the coat room. "Marina should be upstairs."

"It's polite to bring a gift to the hostess," Devon argued as they walked upstairs.

"I think that means you should be bringing me a gift," Sebastian teased.

"I bought you coffee," Devon shot back.

"It was good coffee," Sebastian admitted. He stopped outside Marina's door. "Wait here a second. I want to make sure she's awake."

Sebastian slipped quietly into Marina's room, leaving Devon in the hallway. The room was dark, with the curtains drawn tight over the windows. Her nightlight was out again, and he was left stumbling to try and find the small lamp on Marina's desk. He tripped over something on the floor and, cursing, kicked it out of his way. It took him two tries and a probably broken Barbie doll to get the light on. He turned to Marina's bed and found her staring solemnly up at him, the lack of hair making her green eyes look huge in her gaunt face.

"Hi, Bas-Bas," she said. "You woke me up."

Before the cancer, Marina had called him by his full name. It had taken almost her full five years to learn how to pronounce all the syllables, and he had treated her to cake and ice cream as a reward, and encouragement. She had regressed back to Bas-Bas once the chemo started.

"I broke your -- who is this? Ariel? -- doll, too," Sebastian said, sitting next to her on the bed. "It's just one of those days."

Marina twisted to rest her head on his lap. "It's okay, I don't really like Ariel, anyway," she told him seriously.

Sebastian laughed. "Oh, don't you? I thought she was your favorite?"

"Nuh-uh," Marina shook her head. "Rapunzel's my favorite." She pointed at a new doll, with long blonde hair, snuggled under the covers beside her.

"I see," Sebastian said. "Are you and Rapunzel ready to wake up? I've got someone I want you to meet."

Marina said, "You brought Devon over?" Her eyes grew big and round. "But I'm in my PJs!"

Marina knew that Sebastian was friends with Devon, but had never asked to meet him. She was a little young to keep secrets, so Sebastian thought it would be easiest to introduce to her Devon as Blaine, and keep the fiction that Devon lived in California. "It's my friend Blaine," Sebastian said. "He goes to school with me. He won't care that you're wearing--" he paused to check, "Hello Kitty pajamas. Want to get up and go downstairs?"

Marina nodded. "Can we play music? I can show Blaine my guitar."

"Um," Sebastian said. There were a whole lot of reasons he did not want Devon to know about Marina's guitar. Most of them had to do with his own guitar skills, or lack thereof, and Devon's tendency to tease.

His response seemed unneeded, anyway. Marina was climbing out of bed and into her slippers and robe and knit cap. Once she was wrapped up and cozy, Sebastian grabbed her hand and led her out of her room.

Devon was studying the pictures on the walls as he waited for them. When the door opened, he turned away from a posed picture of Marina and her mother, and knelt down to offer his hand to the girl.

"Hi, Marina," he said. "I'm Blaine." He smiled.

Marina squeaked. She stumbled back against Sebastian's leg, and shyly pressed her face into his hip. Devon's smile gentled.

Sebastian bent down when Marina tugged his shirt.

"I thought you said he wasn't Devon?!" she hissed, outraged, in his ear.

Sebastian stared at Marina, and then at Devon. Devon looked just as stunned, then he shrugged.

"It's my secret identity," Devon told Marina. "You must have magic powers, to be able to see through it so quickly."

Marina peeked out at him. "Why do you have a secret identity?" she asked.

"He likes to rescue kittens and butterflies," Sebastian said.

Devon gave him a wry look. "I have a soft spot for hopeless cases, too," he said.

Marina said, "Really?" with a look on her face like she had seen the dawn. "My Daddy says I'm a hopeless case!"

Sebastian swore. Devon's smile faltered, and he reached out to touch both of them, one hand curling around Sebastian's fingers and the other on Marina's shoulder. Marina flushed and stepped out from behind Sebastian.

"Do you want to hear me play?" she asked, her fingers still tangled in Sebastian's shirt.

"Of course," Devon said.

With great ceremony, Marina led them downstairs to the playroom.

"Where's your Mommy?" Sebastian asked, once they came to the double doors. He had kept his eye out for Sheila on the trip through the house, but his step-mother was nowhere to be found.

"She's napping," Marina said, pushing open the doors.

Marina's playroom was at the back of the house. It had huge windows and French doors that opened up to one of the flower gardens. Sheila had installed a little playground in the garden, with a wooden castle and merry-go-round, but it was too cold and snowy to go outside. The playroom itself had a plush red carpet instead of marble or hardwood floors, and washable paint so Marina could draw directly on the walls. There were far too many toys for one small girl, especially one who spent most of her time asleep or watching movies.

Marina ushered them into the room. "This is my playroom. Bas-Bas and me play popstar here, and kitties, and horsies." She crossed the room determinedly, and missed the smile Devon shot Sebastian.

"Kitties?" Devon whispered.

"It's good that she still plays let's imagine games," Sebastian defended.

Devon grinned at him. "You amaze me," he said.

Sebastian said, "Pay attention to the five-year-old, Killer."

Devon obligingly turned back to Marina, who was dragging a tiny guitar case across the room to them. "You sit there," she pointed at a low couch on the wall with the door. "I gonna play a little, and then we can all sing, and then you guys can play."

"She's very opinionated," Devon murmured to Sebastian as they sat. "She reminds me of someone, actually. There was this guy, he burst into my room and demanded coffee. Do you know him?"

"Shut up and listen," Sebastian said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sebastian's coffee addiction is going to get him into trouble, one day.
> 
> Revised 10/24/13


	6. Avoiding Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian’s coffee addiction is going to get him into trouble, one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to gleedimples on Tumblr because she is amazing and is betaing for me and is a generally wonderful person. :) Thank you!
> 
> For Dolly, because of reasons.

"I have a dilemma," Sebastian told Anita over the phone the following Tuesday.

"Good to hear from you, too, Sebastian," she said. "My weekend was lovely, thank you for asking. I'm thrilled to be on the phone with my favorite popstar at six-thirty in the morning."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You wake up at five to go running every morning, I bet you're already on your way into the office. I'm certainly not interrupting."

There was a pointed silence from his manager. With great effort, Sebastian managed not to sigh or roll his eyes (again). "Good morning, Anita, queen of my heart, woman behind the mask, the driving force behind all the great music in the world."

"That's better," Anita said. "Good morning, cash cow. Why are you calling so early on a Tuesday?"

"Make a woman a fortune and this is the thanks you get," Sebastian muttered. "Anyway, I have ... two questions. One you might need legal for, but I doubt it."

There was a sudden choked sound from his phone. "What did you do this time? I thought you promised to keep out of trouble?"

"I'm actually calling to avoid trouble," Sebastian said.

There was a long, suspicious pause. "Alright," Anita said slowly. "Are you feeling okay, kiddo?"

"There's an a capella choir at Dalton." Sebastian ignored her question. This phone call was actually Devon's fault. The other boy had started prattling on about fairness and taking advantage of his fame, and possible something about skittles; Sebastian had stopped listening at about the same moment Devon had started gesticulating wildly and flexed his biceps. The things he did in the name of his best friend's good opinion.

"Alright," Anita repeated.

"I want to join. Tell me it won't cause any PR disasters or accidentally get the Warblers disqualified from competition if I join."

_("What's the worst that could happen?" Devon had asked. "She says no? So you don't spend Tuesdays and Thursdays in practice until five, and you get to sleep in every Saturday.")_ When he put it that way, Sebastian had no idea why he wanted to join the Warblers.

But the Warblers were incredibly talented musicians, and Sebastian had a weakness for good musicians. Their version of Train's “50 Ways to Say Goodbye” had been truly impressive, something Sebastian was not usually quick to admit. The group was also allowed ridiculous amounts of slack, from bending curfews to being allowed access to the faculty lounge. Thirdly, Devon desperately wanted to join, and just as desperately tried to pretend he was a horrible musician. If Sebastian joined, Devon would green with envy (and at least have a reason to stalk their concerts).

"I actually already know the answer to this," Anita said, her voice colored with amusement. "You're fine, as long as you don't accept payment as a group for performance services. I asked Jerry to look into it as soon as you told me you were finishing high school at an Ohio prep school."

Oh. Well, that was good. He made a noncommittal noise.

"Get me tickets to your first competition. Now, what was the second question."

Back on firm ground, and off the questionable topic of him actually trying to avoid trouble, Sebastian said, "Do you think it's worth the risk of running into an extremely unpleasant and judgmental acquaintance to get decent coffee?"

"Yes," Anita said, immediately.

Sebastian laughed. "Well, I better go inside, then. Waiting in the parking lot probably makes me look crazy."

"If only making you look sane was as easy as keeping you from loitering," Anita said, wistful. "Get your coffee. Go to school. Don't get into any fistfights. And if you yell at anyone, make sure you're defending a puppy or something. If you crash into a parking meter, I'm letting you rot in jail."

"Liar," Sebastian accused, but his manager had already hung up.

Actually buying his coffee was less stressful than he had imagined. The Lima Bean had a handful of sleepy customers, two baristas on duty with the manic look of college students high on Redbull, and a lot of empty tables. No one gave him a second look, and he had almost turned and left to return to campus when he heard a familiar grating voice.

"Why exactly did you buy a travel mug for him? He's nothing but a Hollywood whore who makes trashy music." Hummel. Probably insulting Sebastian, given it was the same vitriol Sebastian had heard from him last week.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and stopped on his way to the door. There was a small, mean voice urging him to confront the girliest gay in Ohio. There was a second, quiet voice, one that sounded an awful lot like Devon, that informed him he heard worse all the time, and to keep walking.

"Hey," a second voice said sharply, cutting off Sebastian's internal debate. He recognized that voice, as well. Devon. Angry Devon, actually, his words clipped and harsh, instead of soft and sweet. "Don't say those things. There is nothing wrong with Sebastian. Don't call him names." Sebastian warmed at his defense.

He looked around to find the two sitting almost out of sight behind a half-high wall, with greenery around then and their coats draped over a nearby table. It was probably a bad idea to insert himself into the conversation, not matter how badly he wanted to take Hummel to task. Sebastian had a lot of experience with people who hated him, his sexuality, and his music. If Hummel thought calling him a whore with bad music was an insult, he should start looking at TMZ. He would be the bigger person, and not get involved.

Eavesdropping was a completely different matter.

Sebastian slunk into a table conveniently blocked by faux greenery and sat, his back to the duo, and pretended to drink his coffee.

"I can't believe you like him. Or his music," Hummel muttered. "You know he only wants you for one thing."

"Kurt," Devon warned.

"Fine, fine," Hummel sighed. "It's just been one thing after another. I'm worried about you and that ... singer at Dalton; Dad's been back and forth from Washington so frequently he's started to get permanent bags under his eyes, I'm terrified he'll have another heart attack; my NYADA application is a disaster, and what if I end up stuck here in Lima for the rest of my life?  My Facebook wall was just the last straw. I just needed you to make things better."

"I don't mind the early morning," Devon said. "You can call me anytime, you know that."

"I just ... sometimes it's so hard. I hate it, I can't wait to get out of here, I just want everything to get better."

"There's only a few months left. Then we can go to L.A., or New York, or wherever you want," Devon said.

"That's easy for you to say, you got out," Hummel argued, his voice going cold again. "You don't get judged the moment you walk in the door. You don't get 'die fag' written all over your Facebook. You've probably got ten colleges lined up begging for your acceptance. It isn't so easy for us public school boys who can't hide what we are. I'm never going to be anything that that fag from McKinley who sounds like a girl."

Hummel was an asshole. Sebastian tightened his grip on his coffee, and held himself back from turning on the whiny, selfish loser with delusions that his life was misery and letting him know exactly how pathetic he was. Did Devon count as a rescued kitten?

"Hey, hey," Devon said, his voice soothing. "You'll be accepted. They'd be crazy not to take you. You're amazing."

Devon was a pushover. He let people hurt him, and never stood up for himself, and always had a kind word to say about his detractors. If there was an award for the nicest star in Hollywood, he would win, hands down. That core of sweetness and civility was one of the (many) things Sebastian liked about Devon. However, listening to Devon just take the abuse and thoughtlessness his supposed friend made Sebastian's blood simmer. Sebastian took a sip of his too-hot coffee, and used the burn on his tongue to distract himself from the burn in his veins.

"Maybe," Hummel said, unconvinced. "But I've got to get to school. We have an early rehearsal for our assembly performance." Chairs scraped against the floor; Hummel and Devon must have stood.

Sebastian hunched further down in his seat and angled his head toward the wall.

"You want me follow you to school?" Devon asked.

"No," Hummel said. "I dragged you all the way out here already, if you come to McKinley with me, you'll miss your first class. I'll see you this weekend, though."

_No._ Sebastian thought viciously. _You won't. He's doing an interview in L.A. and a benefit in San Fransisco. You can treat your other friends like shit, that one will be busy being rich and famous._

"I can't," Devon said regretfully. "I thought I told you. I'm going to stay with my mother for the weekend. We could do dinner when I get back?"

Hummel said, "You're going away? Again? Blaine!"

"Sorry," Devon said, softly.

"You're always sorry," Hummel snapped. Then, "Let's not fight. Okay, come here. I'll see you next week. Thanks for coming out and listening to me vent."

"No problem," Devon said, as Hummel sashayed out of the Lima Bean, right past Sebastian.

Once Hummel was gone, Sebastian stood, spun, and dropped into the seat across from Devon. He set his coffee carefully down, and waited for Devon to notice him. Devon, seated again, was now stirring his drink with an abject frown on his face and no indication he would notice if a gorilla burst through the windows and held the place up.

Oblivious, Sebastian thought fondly.

"What a bitch," Sebastian announced.

Devon started. "Bas!" he said, eyes flying from his drink to Sebastian's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted a decent cup of coffee before I submit to the mind numbing boredom of eight am Chemistry," Sebastian explained. "And then I heard someone with a voice like silk velvet and thought, 'Hey, I know that voice. It's Blaine!' And there you are."

Devon flushed, and his lips twitched unwillingly in a smile. "So you drove all the way to Lima before school for coffee?"

"I'm not the only Dalton senior here," Sebastian pointed out.

"Kurt called," Devon explained. "He was upset."

"That's one word for it," Sebastian said. "Personally, I might have chosen pissier than a 13 year old before her first period, but that's just me."

"I take it you were listening, then?" Devon gave him a look that somehow combined disapproval with a tiny hint of 'I really do think you're funny, I just won't admit it.' Sebastian smiled back. Devon gave up. "It's hard to be gay in Ohio."

Sebastian said, "I actually was aware of that."  He reached out and grabbed Devon's hand, tracing the small surgical scars. "I don't see you taking it out on everyone one else, though."

Devon shuddered and swallowed.  He squeezed Sebastian's fingers. "He doesn't know about that," he said. At Sebastian's unimpressed look, he elaborated. "He knows there was an incident, and that's why I transferred. I don't really like to talk about it, so. I never told him ..."

"How bad it was?" Sebastian offered. "Killer, don't make excuses. He's an ass."

"Everyone has bad days," Devon said. "You don't know him enough to judge. I wish you'd stop."

Sebastian sighed. "All right, you're right. I'm sorry. I just don't like the way he treats you."

Devon smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, too," he said. "I'm a little short on sleep, and I'm taking it out on you."

Sebastian snorted. "D-Blaine, that was not snapping. That was barely a censure." He needed to be more careful about the name, he mused as he grabbed up his coffee. "But we have to get going, anyway. We've got a 90 minute drive to fit into 60 minutes. I might be okay, but can your Camry even hit highway speeds?"

Devon checked his phone. "It's almost seven?"

"You're going to be late to class," Sebastian teased. "Come on, get your coat. You can ride with me and we'll make it. I'll send someone to bring your car back to campus."

"You don't actually have a PA here in Ohio," Devon reminded him. "You don't have anyone to send."

"I'll call Anita," Sebastian said. He held Devon's coat out for him, and smoothed down the lapel once the other boy had turned back to face him. "Besides, I hear you bought me coffee. The least I can do is get you back to Dalton on time. I would be more than willing to show my gratitude in other ways, just keep that in mind."

Devon rolled his eyes. "The ride will be more than enough," he said, tucking his scarf around his neck. "And exactly how long were you eavesdropping?"

"Long enough," Sebastian said dryly, holding his coffee in one hand and placing the other on Devon's back to guide him to the door.

They were well on their way back to Dalton, weaving in and out of the morning traffic, when Sebastian remembered his talk with Anita.

"I spoke with Anita," he told Devon.

Devon made an inquisitive noise.

"She said it's fine if I join the Warblers," he said, smugly.

"Really?" Devon was unconvinced. "She's not worried about how the press will take a Grammy winning artist joining an amateur a capella group for competition?"

"She asked for tickets," Sebastian confirmed. "I told you, it would be worse if people found out I had been asked and refused."

"Right," Devon patronized.

"You're just bitter because you can't join without giving away that you have more talent in your pinky finger than the rest of the group combined," Sebastian said cheerfully. "Whereas I am not pretending to be an Average High School Student, and am free to join as many school music groups as I can fit into my busy schedule."

"Why do I always hear capital letters when you say that?" Devon asked.

"Because there are definitely capital letters," Sebastian said.

Devon had nothing to say to that, and Sebastian glanced over to see him smiling and gorgeous in the passenger seat. He wanted to ask, 'Feeling better, Killer?' but the answer was obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sebastian joins the Warblers


	7. Warbler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian joins the Warblers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you gleedimples on Tumblr for betaing and not falling into a diabetic coma during the process.
> 
> Also thank you to anyone who gave feedback, you are wonderful gorgeous people ♥
> 
> For Dolly (✿◠‿◠)
> 
> "Sparks Fly" and "You Belong With Me" belong to Taylor Swift.  
> "Don't You" belongs to Darren Criss

A few hours before his first practice with the Warblers, Sebastian dragged Devon to one the Dalton's empty practice rooms and forced the other boy to help him practice.

"Have you ever done a capella before?" Devon asked, sitting down on the piano bench while Sebastian shut and locked the door.

"No," Sebastian admitted, and then considered. "Well, not beyond singing in the shower. And sometimes with you, or when I'm driving or distracted and don't realize I'm singing. When I'm fine-tuning lyrics. Not professionally, thought."

Devon nodded. "It's important to remember you don't have anything to fall back on, and you need to listen. You won't have a piano or guitar to correct your pitch."

"The Warblers create their own accompaniment," Sebastian pointed out.

"True," Devon said. "But that also means it’s very easy to throw each other off. Let's try something. What are you auditioning with?"

"I'm not auditioning," Sebastian said. "I was invited to join." He relented. "I will perform a piece at my first meeting. I was thinking ‘Sparks Fly.’”

Devon grinned. "You never cease to amaze me," he said, for no apparent reason.

Sebastian raised his brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Devon said. "Are you ready? I'll give you the starting note. You take it from there. Are you ready?"

"Always," Sebastian said. The single piano note hung in the air like a bell's clear ring, and Sebastian started to sing.

_"The way you move is like a full on rainstorm, and I'm a house of cards_ _._ _"_

Sebastian focused on his chest and throat, on the shape of his mouth and the air he breathed. The sound was dark and needy, close to begging and almost hoarse with desire. He avoided looking at Devon. He knew what the other boy looked like when Sebastian performed, the open delight at the music and friendship that flushed his cheeks and brightened his eyes. It made traitorous hope fill him, but this was work. Getting distracted by his sexy best friend was off the table.

_"Oh, baby, smile … And the sparks fly ..."_

He finished, and looked back at Devon. There was the fond grin he was expecting.

"I don't know why you asked for help," Devon complimented him. "You were amazing, as always.  Your voice gives me chills, Bas."

Sebastian smiled back at him. "You want to join me, this time."

"I can't," Devon said, looking at the door and then the piano.

"The room is soundproof," Sebastian said. "No one will know. Come on, Killer. Live a little."

Devon bit his lip. "One song," he said, turning to fully sit at the piano.

“‘Don't You,’” Sebastian said immediately. No one had ever accused him of being subtle. "I'll start. Come on, Dev, we've got the room for another hour. Let's make the most of it."

They played right up until the Warblers’ meeting at four. After their duet, Sebastian did not have to coax Devon into singing. Devon played the melody to a new song he was writing, and Sebastian talked about his hopes for his new album.

"Do you think it's too obvious if I write a song called 'Like a Girl,' that it's about Jaimie Gelleher?"

Devon said, "Sometimes I can't tell if you're joking, and it worries me."

Sebastian grinned. "I could write a song called 'Sex on a Stick,' instead."

"I could write a song called, 'My Best Friend is a Psychopath, Why am I Okay with That?'"

Sebastian considered. "I think it has potential."

_“My best friend thinks he's a rock star,_

_He drives around in a fancy European car_

_He pops his collar, he thinks he's so cool--_

_Doesn't he realize we're at a private school?”_ Devon crooned.

"What does that have to do with being a psychopath?" Sebastian critiqued.

"I admit, it's in the early stages." Devon smiled. "That'll be the chorus, anyway."

When the alarm on Sebastian's phone went off, signifying the end of their jam session, they packed up reluctantly.

"Good luck," Devon told Sebastian.

"I'm expecting to hear that song at your next gig," Sebastian said. "You want to come with me? You could try out, too. You'd look great in the blazer."

Devon reluctantly shook his head. "I can't sing, remember?"

Sebastian stared down at him, studying the other boy's wistful smile. "You know, you don't have to do this," he told Devon. "I know why you started this way, but you don't have to finish high school with no one knowing your name."

"Blaine is my real name," Devon pointed out.

"It's bigger than the name, Killer," Sebastian said.

Devon looked down at the ground, licked his lips, then looked back at Sebastian. "I can't, Bas. I -- not until I finish high school. Mom would -- Mom --"

"Don't strain yourself," Sebastian sighed. "I'll drop it. Go do your homework or whatever else you math geeks do after school. I have a club to go dazzle." Sebastian could feel Devon watching as he walked away.

There were good reasons for Devon to hide, Sebastian knew that. Or at least, there had been. Back before Devon was Devon, Popstar, he was Blaine, the adorable quiet kid who was beaten into a coma for being gay. Once Devon had been signed, he had refused to go back into the closet. He wanted other gay kids to have a role model and a success story. Pretty much everyone had been against the idea, from the record company to his agent to his mother. The company had been afraid a gay star would fail. His agent had wanted an easier sell. And his mother had been terrified he would get hurt again.

The compromise was Devon. Devon would sell the album. Blaine would attend a safe private boarding school. Devon would sing in bars and clubs and stadiums, progressively bigger venues he kept selling out. Blaine wrote English papers and finished his math homework on time. It had worked for years.

But Devon no longer needed to hide. He was of age, his fan base was huge and, quite frankly, terrifying, and he was safe at Dalton. His mother was not even in the picture anymore. Neither Blaine nor Devon was an expert in disguise. That year alone, Devon's manager had paid off at least two photographers to keep the secret, and Sebastian had no idea why it even needed to be kept.

There was a chance it was because Kurt Hummel was a judgmental asshole with a debilitating inability to forgive, in addition to his mind-boggling inability to see that his best friend and popstar crush were the same person.

Sebastian threw open the doors to the Warblers’ practice room, and belted out,

_"You're on the phone with your boyfriend; He's upset,_

_He's going off about something that you said_

_'Cause he doesn't get your humor like I do._

_I'm in my room -- it's a typical Tuesday night._

_I'm writing lyrics to a song he wouldn't like_

_He'll never know your story like I do._

_You call him Prince Charming_

_He's chasing after glory_

_I'd ask you for a dance_

_But that's not in your story_

_I dream about the day when you wake up and find_

_That your fairy tale ending was here the whole time."_

There was a moment of stunned silence when the last 'you belong with me' died away, followed by a furious uproar. It was a positive uproar, Sebastian noted.

"Was that new?" Jeff asked. "That must be new. I've never heard that song!"

"Can we do that for Regionals?" Thad wondered.

"Very nice, Sebastian," Nicholas said.

"Thank you," Sebastian said. "I don't know. It's probably going to be on my next album, but that's still in the planning stages."

"I think we have one of our Regionals soloists, at least," Thad said, looking meaningfully at Wes and David

"Order, order," Wes said. "We will discuss all this in due time. In the meantime, I'd like to introduce the group to our newest Warbler, Sebastian Smythe. Sebastian, if you'll have a seat next to Jeff. Now, has everyone had a chance to go over the new music I sent out?"

People made various noises of affirmation. Sebastian leaned back in his chair and and tried to let go of the performance high enough to focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Things go wrong.


	8. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly
> 
> Thanks yous all around! Thank yous to Gleedimples for betaing, thank yous to everyone who reviewed or responded or gave some sort of feedback, thank yous to Taylor Swift for writing music.
> 
> "Never Grow Up" belongs to Taylor Swift.

It was all too good to be true, and Sebastian should have realized it. There were signs that everything was about to fall apart. He just had been soaking up the good: Devon's warm regard, Marina's twice weekly cuddles, the Warblers’ excited practices. He went to his scheduled gigs on weekends, had periodic meetings with his record label, and wrote scraps of lyrics in his notes. Even his father seemed to begrudgingly approve of him. Looking back, it was inevitable he manage to screw everything up.

And when he finally did ruin everything, he could not even manage to ruin his own life. Instead, he ruined Devon's.

The phone call came at 3:41 on a Thursday, while the Warbler's worked on their choreography. Sebastian left his position to answer his cell, ignoring Wes's dirty look.

"Smythe," he said into the phone.

A watery voice on the other end said, "Seb? You need to come to Children's Hospital right away."

Sebastian froze. The world went fuzzy around him, and he staggered. He grabbed one of the chairs to keep himself from falling. He heard his name as if from a great distance.

"--eb? Seb? Sebastian?"

Sheila. He was talking to his stepmother.

"What's wrong with Marina?" he said. He did not recognize the sound of his own voice. It was flat and lifeless. Everything bright and warm had drained down out of him, leaving him icy and terrified and nauseous.

"They admitted her an hour ago," Sheila said. "The doctors ... The doctors said to make sure everyone who wanted -- who loves her sees her. You need to get down here."

Sebastian dropped his phone. He thought, _No_. People were around him, reaching for him, talking at him, but he did not process them at all. He pushed through the Warblers and staggered to the door.

"Devon," he said. "Where is Devon?"

He did not expect or need an answer. He knew where Devon was, in his Thursday study group, in the second floor library. There was a big test in AP Calculus tomorrow. Devon had been complaining about it all week, about how no one understood indefinite integrals, and--

Someone had grabbed his arm.

"Sebastian," said David, once Sebastian had turned to look at him. "Do you need us to call someone for you?"

Sebastian tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. He swallowed, and started again.

"No," he said, and pulled away. He walked upstairs almost dazed, not realizing that half the Warblers were following at a concerned distance, whispering worriedly amongst each other. It seemed to take forever to cross the hallways, climb the stairs, push open doors. Actually finding Devon took no time at all. Sebastian stood in the doorway and looked out and saw Devon, standing over another boy's shoulder, gesturing emphatically.

Sebastian said, "Devon," and his voice broke mid syllable.

There was a furious whisper behind him. Sebastian did not pay any attention. Devon and everyone at the study group had looked up, questioning. Sebastian walked forward until his was standing next to Devon, and pleaded,

"Devon."

Someone said, "Oh my God."

Devon was pale as he looked up at Sebastian. "What?" he said, sounding just as stunned and fragile as Sebastian felt. "I don't understand."

Sebastian said, "It's Marina." It felt like the world was ending, and he needed Devon to reach out and grab him and anchor him onto solid ground. "She's in the hospital. They don't know, they don't know--" Sebastian's knees buckled, and he fell.

Devon caught him. "Hey," he said. Trapped in his shock, Sebastian could not see the raging emotions as they crossed the other boy's face. Devon pulled him close, letting Sebastian bury his face in the curve of his neck, clutch desperately at his sweater, and just held tight. "I'm here," Devon murmured. "Come on.  Sit down and tell me what happened." He maneuvered the two of them away from the group, toward one of the reading nooks created by shelves and windows.

Once they were curled together in an armchair, Sebastian said, "Marina's in the hospital." A choked whimper escaped him, and he started to sob soundlessly. He was sprawled across Devon's lap, head tucked under Devon's chin and burrowed close to his chest. The smaller boy wrapped him up in his arms and stroked down his spine to help calm him.

He felt the flex of Devon's neck and chin as the other boy held him close. There were droplets of water on Devon's neck, smeared onto the other boy's skin by Sebastian's wet eyelashes. Sebastian struggled to calm enough to talk. Devon hummed quietly, and Sebastian heard it start deep in Devon's chest and throat.

When Sebastian's broken breaths calmed down, Devon said, "Okay, Sweetheart. Which hospital is she in?"

Had Sheila said? "I -- I don't," Sebastian groped for words. "I don't know. I don't -- What if she dies?  What if she dies, Dev? I don't--"

"Shhh," Devon soothed, and kissed his hair. "Okay. I'm going to call your stepmother and find out some more details. Then we'll go to the hospital together. It's going to be okay, Sebastian."

Sebastian nodded. "Fuck," he said. "I'm sorry for falling apart."

Devon sighed. "I know, Bas. It's okay. Let's not focus on that, okay?"

Sebastian allowed Devon to lead him out of the library and into student wing. He did his best to ignore the stares and whispers, tried not to think about how his breakdown was going to be all over the news sites in minutes. That only led to thoughts of Marina, her sickly body white with pain on a hospital cot. There was no safe path.

He held tight to Devon's hand.

Once they made it back to Devon's dorm, the other boy pressed Sebastian down onto the bed and pulled out his cell phone. Sebastian wrapped his arms around his calves and put his head on his knees.  He stared at the fabric of his slacks, counting threads to avoid listening to Devon talk to Sheila about his sister. Eventually, Devon came back to him, sitting beside him on the bed and sliding an arm around him.

"Alright," Devon said. "She's as Children's Hospital in Columbus. She has an infection, and she's not doing too well. The doctors are trying to stabilize her, but there's some organ damage and they're having a problem getting her fever under control."

Sebastian swallowed back a whimper.

"I've called a car. We're going to go to Children's. Anita is setting up private security, and she's going to take care of the school. Hey. Hey, look at me." Devon turned Sebastian's face toward him.

Sebastian looked into Devon's eyes, drawing strength from the faith and stubborn resolution he found there. For once, Devon's eyes were more green than gold. Sebastian reached out with one hand and cupped Devon's cheek. Devon gave him a small smile.

"She's going to be fine, Bas."

Sebastian said, "Okay," very quietly.

Calling a car had been a good idea. Neither of them were in any condition to drive, and it allowed them to sit close and draw comfort from each other. Sebastian lay with his head in Devon's lap, and Devon ran his fingers through Sebastian's hair. It was a quiet ride to the hospital. Sometimes Devon would get a text, and he would stop petting Sebastian so he could respond, but neither of them spoke a word.

When they arrived at the hospital, Devon seemed to know exactly where he was going. He did not stop at the receptionist's desk or look at any of the coded maps on the wall, just took them straight to an elevator and hit the button for the fifth floor. Sebastian gripped his hand tightly and was content to be led.

"I have a meeting I can't miss as six," Devon said, when the elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped into a waiting area filled with chairs and tables.

Sebastian held his hand tighter. "What?" he asked.

Devon looked back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes soft and sad. "I'm hoping it won't take too long, and I'll come back as soon as it's over. Sheila and your Dad will be there, too, and Anita's catching the next flight."

"Why?" Sebastian said, his voice gruff and raw. "Dev, I--" _need you_ , but Sebastian could not spit out the words. Devon probably knew them, anyway.

Devon stopped walking and turned around to face him.  He reached up and cradled Sebastian's face in his hands, bringing Sebastian's hand up, as well. There was something very sad in Devon's eyes, and Sebastian was starting to think more was going on than he suspected.

"Devon," he said, hoarsely.

"Bas," Devon said, looking straight in his eyes. "Bas, I know you didn't mean, I know." Devon stopped fumbling for words and took a deep breath. "I swear I'll be back as soon as possible. You don't need to worry about it, okay? Just worry about Marina."

Sebastian tried to think beyond the terror of Marina's crisis, but he kept circling back. Finally, he licked his lips and said, "You make things better, Killer."

Devon smiled. "So do you," he said. "Come on." He withdrew from Sebastian, turning to continue through the halls. Sebastian held tight to his hand, resettling their fingers now that they were walking.

They went through a set of double doors marked 'Authorized Personnel Only,' and washed their hands and donned gloves and caps before they continued. They ended up in a wide open room, a nurse’s station in the center, and lined with glass windows kept private by drawn curtains. There was a nurse at the desk who looked busy, and Sebastian's father was slumped against the wall of one of the rooms, his head in his hands and his suit crumpled and worn.

Sebastian had never seen his father look that bad. His mouth went dry and the terror, pushed down by Devon's reassurance and warm hands, roared back at full force.

Devon paused, and looked up at him. "Hey," he said. "Breathe, okay?"

Sebastian had not realized he had stopped. He drew in a few ragged breaths, until Devon was satisfied, and then they walked to Sebastian's father.

Gilbert Smythe did not look up as they approached. "She's in there with your mother and a couple nurses," was all he said. "They're running another test."

Sebastian's temper flared. "And you're out here, feeling sorry for yourself?" he demanded.

Sebastian's father did not rise to the bait, and did not say anything else. Sebastian and Devon went into the room.

The first thing Sebastian saw was the crowd around the bed. Two nurses were leaning over it, one with a vial in her hands and the other with his back to the door. Then he saw Sheila, standing helplessly at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands. The room was beige and green, with an armchair and lamp shoved off to the side, and dominated by the hospital bed in the center.

In the center of the bed, her face stained with tears and her skin flushed bright red from fever, lay Marina. Her eyes were closed and bruised deep purple. She was hooked up to a respirator and an IV, and there were a dozen monitors Sebastian could not name watching her. Sebastian felt sick.

Devon grabbed his shoulder and held him tight. "Bas, look at me. Come on, turn a little and focus on me. Okay?"

Sebastian struggled to tear his eyes away from his sister and look at Devon.

"I know it's scary, but you need to calm down, okay, Bas? Come over here. As soon as they finish drawing blood, you can go talk to her, but right now why don't you sit down?" Devon eased him around the bed and people, and over to the armchair. Sebastian sank, unthinking, into the seat, still trying to look at Marina. The view was momentarily blocked by the female nurse, until she bagged the vials in her hands and purposefully left the room.

Devon forced Sebastian to look at him, caught his eyes and held his gaze. "It's going to be okay," he said.

Sheila made a quiet sound, and left her post at the bed to come to him, finally seeming to notice them. "Oh, Sebastian," she said.

"Are you going to faint, kiddo? I know it can be scary to see, but she's in very good hands," the male nurse said.

Sebastian shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. He pushed Devon and Sheila back, and moved toward the bed. "Can I touch her?" he asked.

"Gently," the nurse advised.

Sebastian reached out and rested his fingers on Marina's shoulder. His vision blurred and he blinked back tears.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, sounding very young.

"We think she has a virus," said the nurse. "The chemo knocked out her immune system, and we think she caught something.  She's on an antiviral right now, and we're doing bloodwork."

Sebastian nodded. "Is there--" he had to clear his throat to continue. “Is there anything I can do?"

The nurse looked at him sadly. "Just try and get her to remember there's a reason to fight," he said, and left.

Sebastian had no idea how to do that. He looked back at Sheila's devastated face, and realized he was not the only one.

Devon said, "Try singing. She likes it when you sing."

Sebastian said, "I don't know if I can."

Devon wrapped one arm around him and rested his head against Sebastian's shoulder. "Come on," he said.

_"Your little hand's wrapped around my finger,_

_And it's so quiet in the world tonight._

_Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming,_

_So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light."_

Sebastian's eyes burned with tears. "Please," he rasped. "Devon."

_"I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart,_

_And no one will desert you,"_ Devon continued.

"Just try to never grow up, never grow up," Sebastian whispered.

Devon released him. "I have to go," he said regretfully. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

Sebastian let him go, and turned back to Marina to try to finish the song. As he sang to his sister, he thought that he might change the song, because there were words and ideas in it that just weren't true. He thought he could write it better, now. At some point, Sheila moved to sit in the chair, and he sat at Marina's bedside.

He sang until his throat ached, and the tears from earlier and the strain of grief caused his voice to crack and break. He sat in silence afterward for a long time, until Sheila said. "I'm glad you came.” She stood and moved so that she was beside him. “I know Marina would want you here."

Sebastian stared at Marina's face, memorizing the line of her brow and the curve of her lower lip. "You don't get the monopoly on loving her," he said.

Sheila took a deep breath and tried again. Sebastian wished she would stop, and understand they were never going to be friends.

"I didn't know Devon went to Dalton with you," she said. "That was nice of him to bring you here. And have you told Marina that you've been bringing him over? She must have been thrilled."

For the first time since she had called him, Sebastian was drawn completely out of his thoughts of Marina. He turned slowly to look at Sheila. She was holding Marina's free hand, and very gently running her fingers over the knuckles.

"What?" Sebastian said.

Sheila looked up at him. "That's why you've been bringing him over, right? For Marina? I didn't realize it was Devon, at first. I thought it was just a school friend. But it makes sense, now."

"That's," Sebastian said, and pieces started to click into place.

The whispers from his friends as he looked for Devon in his high school.

The betrayal on Devon's face when he had walked into the library.

The sadness in Devon's eyes as he told Sebastian he had to go.

The dawning realization from the Warblers, the study group, everyone who was close enough to hear him fall apart as they realized that--

Sebastian had told everyone Devon's secret. Blaine's secret.

Sebastian stumbled back from the bed and sank back into the chair. He looked from Sheila, to Marina, and back. His mouth was parted to speak, to deny the mistake, but there was no denial.

"Sebastian?" Sheila asked. "Are you alright?"

"Hey, Kid," a voice came from the doorway. "You look awful."

Sebastian turned to the door, to see Anita, dressed in a sharp grey suit and gloves and mask, standing in the doorway. His father stood behind her, no longer appearing quite so dazed. A surge of relief filled him at her appearance.

"Anita," he said. "I think I screwed up, again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Introducing Anita, and Blaine and Sebastian talk


	9. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Anita, and Blaine and Sebastian talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly, especially since she finished her homework on time. You rock!
> 
> For Nemo. I miss you.
> 
> Thank you if you reviewed, or commented, or left kudos, or sent me feedback in some other way. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Thank you to gleedimples on Tumblr for betaing. You are a wonderful person :) Any and all remaining mistakes are my fault.

Anita, a small woman with glossy hair and narrow dark eyes, wasted no time in dragging Sebastian out of Marina's room and into an empty office to talk to him. Sebastian would have protested, but the shock had not yet worn off, and he found himself seated on an uncomfortable office chair before he realized there was something to fight over.

Anita settled into the chair beside him. "We'll start with the obvious," she said. "I'm very sorry about your sister, Seb."

His eyes started to water again, and Sebastian hastily scrubbed the tears away. "Thanks," he rasped out.

"I spoke with the doctors before I came in. She's got a good chance, kid. Don't give up on her."

"Alright."

"But there're some other things we have to go over."

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then leaned back in his chair. "I accidentally outed Devon," he said woodenly, staring up at the ceiling.

Anita reached out for his hand, but Sebastian flinched away from her.

"He's not mad at you," Anita said, dropping her hand back in her lap. "He understands."

"You know this how?" Sebastian asked, bitter and angry at himself.

Anita rolled her eyes. "Because he was the one who called about your sister, and it came up. Did you really think Devon would hold this against you? At a time like this?"

"He left--"

"Riley and his team are doing damage control. We had a phone meeting while I was on my way. Devon should be talking to some friends he doesn't want to find out from the news right now, then he had a strategy meeting with Riley, Jed, and Caroline, and then he's coming straight back here." Anita kicked lightly at his shoe. "Truthfully, Riley's pretty happy about this. He's spent the last few years waiting for the bomb to drop. I think he has multiple plans and backup plans for when Devon finally came out to the public as a private school boy."

Sebastian conceded the point. "What am I going to do?"

Anita shrugged, and swept her hair behind her shoulders. "Hopefully, not much. This is actually good for us, timing wise. Attention is going to be on Devon, not your sister. We're mostly going to be playing defense."

Sebastian was not very good at playing defense. He did not like the idea of using Devon's problems to cover his own. He looked at Anita, unimpressed. She grinned, obviously aware and just as obviously dismissive of his thoughts, and pulled out her tablet.

"Just try and keep your mouth shut around cameras and recorders." Anita did something to her tablet, and then said, "I'll get a bodyguard here, to keep any crowds off you as you travel between home and the hospital. I'm recommending you go to your parents’ tonight, but you can go back to Dalton if you'd like. Just be aware, there will be a lot of curious eyes on you and Devon.”

Sebastian did not like the idea of staying in Columbus, but he liked going all the way outside the city to Dalton even less. "My parents' is fine," he acquiesced.

"Good. Now, how do you want to handle to social media?"

Sebastian asked, "Options?"

"Debbie and her team can send out a couple tweets, update your Facebook, supporting Devon when he makes his announcement about his identity." Anita showed him her tablet, where an email from his publicist already had a plan mocked up with tweets and a funny gif of Superman and Clark Kent. He scrolled down to see that Debbie mentioned coordinating with Devon's team on timing. "You also have the option of letting people know about your sister--"

"No," Sebastian said, handing back the tablet. "I'm not putting Marina out there. I'm not-- It's off the table."

Anita gave him a shrewd look. "Alright," she said mildly, and looked back at the screen. "Do you want to handle to response to Devon, or do you want Debbie to craft something?"

He should do it himself, he knew that. People knew he was close to Devon, and a generic or crafted response would send up red flags. Still, Sebastian was barely capable of having this discussion, and he knew it. Also, his iPad was in his dorm room, and--

"I don't have my phone," Sebastian thought out loud.

Anita paused, and looked up from her tablet. "What?"

"I left it at school. In the choir room, I think."

"Sebastian!" For the first time that evening, Anita sounded upset.

Sebastian shrugged. "I dropped it," he explained.

"You -- of course you did. Alright, let's add finding your phone and praying that no one managed to get into your contacts or messages or change your Twitter password to the list."

It took another two hours for Anita to go over everything on her tablet with him, from canceling a weekend gig to getting him a new phone. When she left him go, she left him with a card with her hotel address and room number on it.

"A couple bodyguards should be here within the hour," she told him. "One will be in charge of getting you in and out of the hospital if there's press. The other is to make sure no one disturbs your sister." She packed her tablet back in her shoulder back, and stretched before standing. "Alright. You can go back to your family. Call me if you need me, okay?" She reached out to grip Sebastian's forearm, and this time he let her. She squeezed his arm once, and swept out of the room as suddenly as she had arrived.

Sebastian slid the card into his pocked, and put his head in his hands. Alone, his thoughts threatened to drown him. Marina was deathly sick. Devon was no longer safe and anonymous. He suddenly felt cold.

A warm hand landed on the back of his neck, and he jerked upright to see Devon, his eyes bruised and red from weeping, reaching for him.

"Hello," Devon said. His voice was scratchy and thick.

Sebastian stared, and then stood. He wanted to fall into Devon's arms, wrap himself tight in Devon's warmth and hope everything was a bad dream, and he would wake up any moment. He wanted to hold Devon close until Devon's tears faded and the grief was replaced by joy and familiar arms around each other.

"Devon," Sebastian said.

Devon frowned, and brushed his fingers against the tear tracks on Sebastian's cheeks. "She's going to be fine, Bas."

Sebastian's eyes started to burn again, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying. "I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm so sorry. De-- Blaine, I swear I never meant it."

The initial bewilderment turned quickly to understanding, lighting Devon's eyes and turning them molten gold. Devon said, "Come here." Sebastian allowed Devon to maneuver them together, until they were pressed chest to chest and wrapped tight around each other. "I forgive you. I know you. I know you didn't mean it."

For the second time that day, Sebastian broke in the other boy's arms, and Devon put him back together, one gentle touch at a time.

After Sebastian's sobs quieted and most of the swelling on his eyes had gone down, they headed back to Marina's room. There were two guards outside the room, Walter and Toma, both tall men in plain dark clothing that nodded respectfully to Sebastian and Devon.

"Anita Summers hired us, Sir," said Walter. "I'll stay until four with the young lady. My relief will take over for the morning. Toma will be with the two of you." It was not the first time Anita had hired him a bodyguard, and Sebastian did his best to pretend neither man was there. The two were good enough that it was an easy illusion.

Sheila and his father were both in Marina's room, Sheila seated on the bed, and Gilbert on the chair. Devon stopped just inside the door and leaned against the wall. Sebastian continued further in, and, with a lack of other options and the stress of the day beginning to catch up with him, sat at the end of the bed.

Sheila smiled wanly at him. "Her fever's stopped climbing," she said quietly. "The doctor came by, and said every hour ups her chances."

Sebastian nodded. "Did they give her odds, or anything?"

Sheila said, "Doctor Cartwright said he thinks she'll make it, if she stays through the night."

Sebastian looked at his watch.  It was almost ten, hours after the original call. He was prepared to settle in for the long wait, when his father spoke for the first time.

"It's getting late, Sheila. Why don't you go home for the night and get some sleep? I'll stay with Marina tonight."

"No," said Sheila emphatically. "I'm not leaving her. You heard them. I can't -- I'm not--"

"You've been here all day, Sheila. Just go home and get some sleep."

"Because obviously her desire to stay with her terminally ill daughter is crazy." Both adults turned to look at Sebastian, and he realized he had spoken aloud. Well, he might as well go for broke. "This isn't some kind of game. The doctors say she might not m-make it through the night. You'd have to call fucking security to get me out of here. Why the fuck would your wife be any different?"

His father looked thunderous and horrible. "You think you can walk back into our lives and tell me how to talk to my wife, you pretentious little--"

"Gilbert!" Sheila said. She had stood up, and reached for Sebastian's father.

"I'm not the one who--"

"Stop it!  Both of you!" Sheila demanded. "My daughter is dying and you want to fight? If that's what you want to do, then both of you get out of here!"

"If the lot of you can't calm down, I'm going to have all of you removed."

Sebastian turned to see the night nurse, her eyes blazing with anger, standing in the doorway.

"This is a critical care ward. I can't endanger all my patients because you're all stressed and tired. Parents can spend the night. Everyone else has to go," the nurse continued.

"But--" Sebastian protested.

"I've already had calm one toddler down because of you. You two, leave. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, this is your only warning."

Sebastian stared, open mouthed, while the nurse glared from the doorway and waited for him and Devon to leave. Vibrating with anger, he grabbed his coat and scarf and stalked out. Devon followed quietly after. Walter took one look at their faces and gestured Toma to follow, while he spoke a few words with the nurse and remained by the door. Devon never left Sebastian's side, and Sebastian was unspeakably grateful for his presence. They walked together out of the hospital, where a handful of photographers must have been waiting for hours to snap photos. They tossed questions at the two boys --

"Devon!  Devon, how do you feel now that everyone knows your birth name? Why did you keep it a secret for so long?"

"Sebastian, is there any truth to the rumor that the reason you've been at the hospital is because you have syphilis?"

\-- but Toma hustled them past and into a waiting car, not giving them a chance to answer, even if they had wanted to.

The driver took a winding route to Sebastian's father's estate. Sebastian glared angrily at the privacy screen for the first twenty minutes, until the quiet drained enough of his anger for Sebastian to realize that Devon was not acting normal.

They were both seated upright. Devon was buckled into his seat, and staring mindlessly out the window. He still held Sebastian's hand, but there was no reassuring pressure. Devon did not slump down on Sebastian's shoulder. He was quiet and still. Aside from the comforting Sebastian earlier, Devon had said nothing. It was rare to see Devon as anything less than poised and graceful. He always had a kind word to say, and he was capable of navigating difficult social situations with ease. Sebastian would have expected Devon to step in and diffuse the argument before he and his father started screaming. He thought of the tear stains, and the desperate way Devon had clutched at him when they had spoken alone in the hospital. His stomach tightened uneasily.

"Anita said you met with your agent and manager," Sebastian prodded, looking over at Devon.

The other boy continued to look out the window at the black night. "Yes," he said. "I've got some late night shows coming up. A statement will go out tomorrow."

One of Devon's more annoying tendencies was to fall into himself when upset, hide his feelings, and lick his wounds in private. Normally, Sebastian would have been all for someone not spewing their angst and drama all over his life. Devon was always another story.

"Come on, Killer," Sebastian said. "I know the difference between your business face and your 'someone broke my heart' face. Tell me who it is. I'll hold them down and you can tap dance on their skull."

There was not even a flinch.

"Dev--" Sebastian started.

"It's over," Devon said, still avoiding Sebastian's gaze. "I told Kurt everything.  He told me he never wants to see me again."

Sebastian stared at him. "What?" he asked stupidly.

Devon finally turned to him. Fresh tears streaked his face. "I told him, 'I don't know how to say this.  I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but I could never find the right words. I'm Devon.' I took off my glasses. He said nothing and I thought, I don't know what I thought. I asked him if we were okay. He asked me if I had enjoyed humiliating him, if the last year had been a game, if I thought this was funny. I said 'No.' I said, 'Of course not.' I told him I loved him. He told me I had no idea how to love someone, that if I thought this was love, I was just as damaged and monstrous as -- he told me--"

Sebastian, who had been listening to the mounting flow of words in shocked horror, unbuckled and flung himself into Devon's lap.

"I'm sorry," Devon whispered. "You have more than enough to worry about. You don't need this."

"I always worry about you. Killer." He twisted until he was beside Devon instead of crushing him, pressing their sides together and wrapping one arm around the smaller boy. "It's okay. I want to know. He's an idiot. There is nothing wrong with you."

Devon collapsed against him, sobbing into his neck until they finally arrived at the estate. Sebastian was forced to untangle himself from Devon and open the gate. Once they were driving down the drive again, Sebastian curled around Devon and rocked back and forth. He carried Devon up the front walk and into the house, and said soothing words that did nothing to calm the other boy down. They curled up together on one of the guest room beds. Eventually, Devon cried himself to sleep in Sebastian's arms. Sebastian, torn between his guilt and his fear, did not sleep at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: The morning after.


	10. Devastastion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly.
> 
> Thank you to gleedimples on Tumblr for betaing. She's awesome, and this is much better because she looked at it.
> 
> Thank you for reviewing, commenting, and giving feedback. You rock!

Devon's phone rang at six in the morning. Sebastian, dozing for the first time all night, cursed, while Devon started awake and rolled to the edge of the bed so he could get his phone from the nightstand he had left it on.

"H'llo?" Devon mumbled. His voice was rough and scratchy from the night before.

Sebastian sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. The room was dark except for Devon's phone screen. He searched for a light.

"What?" Devon said, sounding suddenly awake. "No, wait. Here he is." He handed his phone to Sebastian.

Sebastian gave up messing around his own nightstand to try and find the lamp switch, and took the phone.

"Yes?" he asked, yawning. Devon reached around him and flicked on the lamp.

"Seb," Sheila said, sounding just like when she had told him Marina was in the hospital. Sebastian's blood froze in his veins, and he struggled to draw in a breath. "Seb, she's okay. Marina is okay. Her fever broke a little while ago, and the doctors say she's out of immediate danger."

Sebastian took a deep breath, and another. Relief flooded him, and the tension in his neck and shoulders eased. Across from him, Devon slipped out of bed and gathered up the clothes he had discarded a few hours before. He started getting dressed, back to Sebastian and facing the wall.

"Sebastian?"

"I'm here," Sebastian said, refocusing. "She's okay? Is she awake?"

Devon, who had was in the middle of pulling on his discarded button up, spun around and looked at him expectantly.

"Good news?" he whispered.

'She's okay,' Sebastian mouthed, and went back to focusing on the phone.

"She just fell back asleep a few minutes ago. They're moving her to a permanent room in a few hours. If you want to come around dinner time, she should be settled in," Sheila explained.

"Alright," Sebastian said. "Thanks for the update."

"I called your phone, first, but it went straight to voicemail," Sheila said. "Your manager gave me this number."

"I'll tell her thank you, but this is Devon's phone. Don't go handing it out to people," Sebastian said. "I'll come by and see Marina later." He hung up without saying goodbye, and collapsed back onto the bed.

Devon crawled next to him, and hugged him as best he could. "What did she say?"

Sebastian hugged him back. "She woke up for a little while. They're moving her to another room this morning, so I'll go over tonight." There was a part of him that wanted to say, 'Screw it all,' and head over right away, so he could see for himself that Marina survived and that he still had a baby sister. The logical part of his mind, the one that had been in this situation before, knew all too well that the morning would be stressful and filled with tests, and the move to another ward even worse. He would just get in the way. Sebastian set his jaw.

"Do you want company?" Devon murmured into his shoulder.

"Like you need to ask, Killer," Sebastian replied, and let go. Devon moved back so Sebastian could dress. "Let's go see if there's anything for breakfast.  I don't know if my father remembered to tell the cook he wouldn't be here this morning."

The kitchen was in the back of the house, by the herb gardens, and it took a while for them to walk there. The initial energy burst from the call and subsequent news flagged quickly. Sebastian could almost see the Devon droop, which would have been funny, had he not been in the same boat.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Devon asked, stifling a yawn.

Sebastian shrugged. "A little. Your snoring could wake the dead, so--"

"I'm sorry, I was so upset--"

"Relax, Killer," Sebastian said. "I was just messing with you. You didn't actually snore."

"It's too early for a sense of humor," Devon muttered.

"It's never too early to make fun of you," Sebastian protested. Devon rolled his eyes.

There was light under the kitchen door. Sebastian grabbed the handle and said, "We're in luck, neither of us need to figure out if we can cook," and swung open the door.

Instead of the cook, they found Anita and Riley seated at the kitchen table, surrounded by newspapers. Both of them had economy-sized coffees before them and tablets in their hands. Breakfast was nowhere to be found.

"Riley!" Devon said.

"How did you get in this house?" Sebastian demanded.

"Your stepmother is a very nice woman, did you know that? She gave me the gate key yesterday." Anita did not look up from her screen.

"How are you feeling, B? You look like you need some coffee and a hot shower." Riley held out another coffer cup to Devon, who took it with a grateful look and immediately started drinking. "Sit down, sit down."  Riley was even smaller than Devon, with thick dark hair and a voice that was always enthusiastic and kind. He cleared a spot for Devon to sit at the table.

Sebastian looked at Anita.

"You have hands," she said, not looking up.

Sebastian and Anita had a very different relationship, obviously. He huffed, and pushed at the papers until there was room to sit beside Devon.

"Drama queen," Anita said, sotto voce.

"Are these from today?" Devon asked, before Sebastian could snark back (it may have been more of a rescue than he realized, because Sebastian was far too tired to come up with a good taunt).

Sebastian picked up the nearest paper. "Devon revealed! See inside for exclusive pics." He looked at his friend. "Radical stuff."

"This is just the ones who managed to switch their print run so late," Anita said. "You should see some good stuff in the next few days. It's the online pieces that we need to keep an eye on."

_There are a lot of trashy newspapers_ , Sebastian thought. Flipping through the closet stack, he saw publications with Devon's face superimposed over a Catholic school uniform, yearbook photos, images of Devon on stage, and at interviews, and cornered on the street. It was worse than the time that Sebastian and Devon had crashed into the parking meter.

Devon said, "Looks like the rumors about us are going to flare up again."

"They died down?" Sebastian asked wryly. "Something in particular?"

Devon handed him a paper. In grainy news ink on the cover was Sebastian and Devon leaving the hospital, with their tangled hands in focus. ‘DEVASTATION??’ was printed in Ariel Bold across the top. ‘Devastation,’ of course, was the portmanteau of 'Devon and 'Sebastian,' as long as you were drunk.  Sebastian blamed the Devon fangirls.

"Someone's punning. Anita, make them stop punning," Sebastian groaned.

Devon smiled faintly. "Relax, Bas, I promise not to jump you in the shower."

"Killer, you can jump me anytime you--"

"That reminds me, I had Stacy put together a bag for you before I left the hotel," Riley interrupted. He set his tablet down and grabbed a duffel bag up from the floor. "There's absolutely zero chance of you going anywhere unnoticed, and Anita remembered that the two of you had expected to go back to Dalton last night."

Devon reached across the table to take it from him. "Thanks," he said. "I was feeling pretty gross."

"I have one for you too, Seb," Anita said. "It's over by the microwave."

Sebastian nodded his thanks. "There's a bath connected to the guest room we stayed in last night," Sebastian told Devon. "Towels and toiletries should be there, too. Let me know if you need anything."

Devon nodded. "Thanks, Bas. Does anyone mind if I go wash up?" No one did, and Devon left.

Once he was out of earshot, Riley said, "He looks bad."

Sebastian raised a mocking brow. "I have no idea why he would be upset. It's not like he was accidentally outed as a superstar and his almost-boyfriend dumped him for it, is it?"

Anita frowned. "You dumped him?"

Sebastian thunked his head on the table. "I hate you. I want a new manager," he said into the wood.

Riley said, "Some of his friends reacted badly."

Anita said, "These things never turn out well."

"You can't really fault Blaine for this," Riley objected. Sebastian heard the subtext: ‘ _It was_ Sebastian _who leaked the story_.’

Sebastian stood up, clattering against the table and chair. "I'm going to wash up," he announced.

"Seb! Seb!" Anita called after him.

In what he would later admit was a spectacularly dramatic fashion, Sebastian walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sebastian and Blaine vs. Dalton
> 
> Also, I'm accepting prompts at my Tumblr for Christmas. Message me if you want me to write you something!


	11. Grey, Threatening Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Blaine vs. Dalton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly.
> 
> Thank yous to gleedimples on Tumblr for betaing. No, really, thank her, because this is much better for her kindly influence.
> 
> Thank you for reviewing, commenting, and giving feedback. Yay!

Devon and Sebastian returned to Dalton in time for third block.

They debated the pros and cons with Riley and Anita, going in circles of logic and thought and getting nowhere. Sebastian was in favor of taking the entire weekend to get a handle on everything. He still felt raw from the previous day’s tragedies, and the thought of returning to school, and the constant surveillance of his fellow students, left him bitter and sarcastic. Devon had agreed with him. It was Riley and Anita who favored returning to school.

“You go back today, you can do more to control the story,” Anita advised. “You can have a short day, test the waters, and then take a breather this weekend.”

Riley said, “You can always leave if it gets too much. If you let this stew over the weekend, who knows what you’ll return to on Monday.”

Devon bit his lip.

Sebastian said, “You could always pull out, and get tutored the rest of your senior year.”

He had meant it as an honest option, but Devon had flushed and said, “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll go back today. But you don’t have to come with me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sebastian said. “It’s not a good look for you. Of course I’m coming with you.” _I can’t let you walk in there alone, not when I’ve done this to you_ , he did not say.

Devon’s tense shoulders eased.

A new guard drove with them to campus. Anita arranged for a chauffeur and the guard sat up front with the driver, leaving Devon and Sebastian with a pretense of privacy in the back. They were quiet for most of the drive; Devon leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers tapping together nervously, while Sebastian slouched beside him, his head tilted back so he could see out the back window. It was cloudy and grey, threatening snow. Back home, it was probably fifteen degrees warmer and clear. He suddenly ached for the bright skies, and crowded boulevards, and the view of the ocean from his windows.

“Bas,” Devon said, very quiet, when they turned down the long drive to the school. It was enough to snap Sebastian from the bleakness of Ohio in December, and he looked at his friend.

“Killer,” he replied. Devon was studying him intently. Sebastian, in a fresh uniform and coat, his tie still loose around his collar, raised his brow. “See something you like?”

Devon huffed a laugh. His hair was a little curly, his face open and vulnerable without his glasses, and there was something illicit about seeing so much of Devon in Blaine Anderson’s school uniform. He stared directly into Sebastian’s eyes. “I wanted to ask you something,” he confessed. “Now that … everyone knows, do you think you could call me Blaine?”

Sebastian frowned.

“It’s my name,” Devon said, reaching out and touching Sebastian’s hand. “It’s not because of what happened. I just want you to call me by my name.”

It was not an unreasonable request, Sebastian figured. And he did owe D-Blaine a few favors. He had never really thought of his friend as Blaine, though. He was always Devon, the superstar schoolboy with the adorable blush and amazing ass. Sebastian tangled their hands together. “All right,” he said. “Blaine. Blaine Anderson. B. Blaine. All the time? Even when I’m being hounded by Teen Beat about our magical love affair?”

Blaine ducked his head and smiled. “Yeah. Even then.”

The car stopped, and the driver came around the car to open their door and let them out.

“Do you think that will be more fodder for the rumors, or less?” Sebastian mused. He pushed past Blaine and stepped out first, looking around and trying to gauge the atmosphere of the school. Blaine poked hard at his hip, and Sebastian reluctantly moved so Blaine could join him.

Blaine said, “We already had this conversation today. Careful, or someone might think you mean it.” Their shoulders were pressed together, and Blaine was trembling just a little.

“Come on, B,” Sebastian said. “AP Lit and Comp awaits.”

“Okay,” Blaine breathed, and they made their way into the school.

The bell rang, signaling the end of second block, as they made their way upstairs. Sebastian rested his hand on Blaine’s back, just like normal, and pointedly ignored their classmates as the other boys flooded the hall. Instead, he looked at Blaine.

“So I did absolutely none of the reading, and only about one third of the essay,” he said.

Blaine glanced at him and smiled. “If you did your homework the night it was assigned, you wouldn’t have this problem,” he taunted.

Sebastian sneered. “I know for a fact you haven’t even started your essay. You told me two days ago you weren’t going to get to it until -- can I help you?”

Tyler Harris from the football team had stepped in front of them, blushing a little under Sebastian’s judgmental gaze. “I … actually -- that is -- um ... Bl--Devon -- I just--”

Blaine took pity on the boy. “Blaine’s fine,” he said, smiling warmly at Tyler. “What can I do for you?”

Tyler squeaked. Sebastian snickered. Blaine stepped on his foot.

“Couldyousignthis?” Tyler blurted, and thrust a CD into Blaine’s hands.

“Sure,” Blaine said, at the same time Sebastian said, “No.”

Tyler looked back and forth between them. Blaine grabbed the CD and pulled a marker out of his pocket.

“Ignore him,” Blaine advised Tyler. “He’s just upset that he can’t figure out a full Windsor knot.”

“I’ve known how to tie a full Windsor since I was five,” Sebastian argued, and realized he still had not secured his tie when he went to prove it. “And we don’t have time for an autograph line, we have Lit in two minutes.”

Blaine scribbled on the jewel case. “You didn’t do your homework, anyway,” he dismissed, passing the case back to Tyler.

“Thanks!” Tyler said.

Tie a perfect full Windsor, Sebastian grabbed Blaine’s sleeve and dragged him down the hall before another boy could say anything. “Yes, and walking in late with no homework is much worse than just not handing it in,” he said.

Blaine laughed.  “Alright, alright,” he said.  His smile faded.  “Is it going to be like that with everyone?”

Sebastian did not know how to answer him. Tyler had been easy; an autograph and a smile and he was content to move on. Other people would be furious with Devon’s lie, hold it against him and use it against him. Blaine had never been on the wrong side of the media before, not like Sebastian. It was going to get worse before something new and horrible came along and everyone forgot.

At the very least, Blaine would have Sebastian. It might not help for Sebastian to be so obviously on Devon’s side, but he would not abandon his friend.

 

* * *

 

Wes cornered them after class.

“Warbler Sebastian.” He nodded to Sebastian, then focused on D-Blaine. “Devon.”

Blaine blinked up at him. “Blaine is fine, Wes,” he said. If he had the air of a man who had said that far too many times in the last hour, it was deserved. AP Lit and Comp had been brutal. “Do you guys need to talk? You can meet me in the caf, Bas.”

Sebastian hummed with displeasure, but Wes spoke before he could argue.

“Actually, I came to talk to you, Blaine. How many years have you been at Dalton?”

Blaine and Sebastian exchanged looks. Sebastian scowled, but Blaine minutely shook his head to keep him quiet.

“Almost four years,” Blaine said. “Your brother was my campus guide. He introduced us, remember?”

Wes nodded agreeably. “And in those four years, did you ever think that we might have been able to use you in the Warblers?”

Sebastian relaxed.

Blaine choked. “What?”

“We haven’t gone to Nationals in a decade. Dalton has never gone this long without winning the show choir championship.”

“I,” Blaine stuttered. “What? I can’t join the Warblers. It wouldn’t be--”

“A decade, Blaine! And we’ve had Devon wandering around campus, participating in mathlete competitions! The Warblers are one of the most prestigious a capella choirs in the country!”

“I’ve won--” Blaine started to say, and then seemed to think better of it, and snapped his mouth shut. He looked helplessly up at Sebastian.

Sebastian smirked. ‘I told you so,’ he mouthed. It was absolutely worse to be viewed as thinking you were too good for an amateur group than to actually join.

“I expect you to start rehearsing with us next week. Wear something comfortable; we need to fit you into the choreography as soon as possible, so Warblers Sebastian and Nick will be working with you on that. David and I will focus on your singing.” Wes spun on his heels, and strode away from them.

Blaine repeated, “What?”

Sebastian laughed at him. His friend glared up at him, and took off after Wes. Sebastian followed leisurely behind. He went to check his phone, then remembered losing it the day before. He caught up to the two and interrupted what appeared to be the beginnings of a heated debate. Blaine probably would have lost; Wes had captained the debate team since his Sophomore year.

“Wes,” Sebastian said. “Did anyone find my phone yesterday?”

Wes looked over at him. “I have it,” he said, relaxing from his straight-backed, competitive stance. “My apologies, I meant to give it back when I saw you next. I was just distracted.” He pulled the phone out of his bag, and handed it to Sebastian, who slid it into the inside pocket of his blazer.

Blaine had used to distraction to organize his thoughts, and Sebastian watched in fond amusement as he took a deep breath, and turned sweet bright eyes on Wes. “Wes, I can’t join the Warblers. I’ve got a lot of commitments right now. I’m going to be missing school at least twice a week through January. And there’s going to be a lot of backlash over my … my identity. You don’t want the Warblers caught up in that. Besides,” and here Blaine turned his warmest smile on Sebastian. “You have Sebastian Smythe. Why would you need me?”

 

* * *

 

“Nice job, Killer,” Sebastian said, as Wes departed. “I think you made it out of that without making him think you’re a snob.”

“Shut up,” said Blaine. “You were no help. You joined the Warblers. How do you even have the time?” His eyes were glittering bright with annoyance, and his lips were twisted in a pout. He looked like a particularly despondent puppy. Sebastian was careful not to let that thought show.

Instead, he shrugged. “With my incredible looks and talent comes the kind of time management skills Donald Trump would be envious of.”

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying this.” Blaine adjusted his bag on his shoulder, his face still twisted with unhappiness, and stalked down the bright Dalton hallway. Classes had been over for a few minutes by now, and the stragglers who had been openly staring at Blaine had been forced into their next block. Fourth block was one of the smaller lunches, for which Sebastian was grateful. It meant that he only had to stare down only a handful of people into leaving them alone. He could focus on Blaine without worrying about photos being snapped and videos being recorded.

Sebastian grabbed Blaine’s arm and tugged him to a stop. “Hey. Hey!”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Sebastian cataloged the other boy’s shadowed eyes, pale skin, clenched jaw, and the grief that hovered beneath every stage smile and friendly greeting. Marina had pulled through. The relief from her survival was still manic in Sebastian’s blood. She was alive, he could still sing to her, hold her, write her silly songs and play her silly games. He desperately wanted to see her, but he had time. Devon’s problems were still drowning him. There was no escape, and all Blaine could do was go through the mess his lies had created, and Sebastian’s ineptitude had unleashed.

“Go to the hideout. I’ll grab us food and we can eat there, and you can grab a quick nap.” Maybe he should have pushed harder for Blaine to take it easy.

Blaine bit his lip. “That feels like cowardice,” he whispered.

Sebastian cupped his friend’s face in his hands. “You’re not running, Dev.”

Blaine smiled a little. “Blaine,” he said.

“What?”

“Blaine,” he repeated. “My name?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Get some rest, Killer. I’ll be right behind you.”

Blaine said, “Thank you, Bas,” and peeled off toward the dorms.

Sebastian went to the cafeteria to get food and, with any luck, scare the rest of Dalton into leaving Blaine alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: The Devon Show


	12. Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devon Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly. I promise I'll write those other things you wanted as soon as exams are over.
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr betaed and I am so very grateful that she took the time and effort. This is better because of her!
> 
> Thank you for reviewing, commenting, and giving feedback. I really appreciate it :)

“If I have to stay here one more minute, I am going to throw the kind of temper tantrum that will take over the blogs for a week,” Sebastian groused, dragging Blaine by the arm to escape from three student council members and the entire soccer team. “Screw this. We’re spending the weekend in Columbus.” The halls were packed wall to wall with students fighting their way to cars and buses and dorms. Fighting through the throngs of blazered boys was like fighting through a Mongolian horde. Sebastian used his elbows and height to great advantage, and made sure to keep Blaine close enough that they would not get separated.

The two had different classes for last block four out of six days per cycle. Today, Sebastian had left his study hall early to wait outside Blaine’s chemistry lab, though it made more sense for Blaine to meet Sebastian downstairs. He thought the benefits of walking with Blaine, where he could scare off their classmates, outweighed the effort he put into doubling back through the building. Now, Sebastian was paying for his courtesy. The entire school was between the pair and the boarder’s lot where Sebastian kept his car.

“I thought you planned to spend the weekend in Columbus?” Blaine asked.

Even as Sebastian dragged Blaine down the hall, he did not look at his friend. If he paid attention to Blaine’s ghostlike fragility, the temper tantrum would stop being an exaggerated response to an overenthusiastic student body. Instead, he focused on threading his way around the mess of students and toward the next staircase. In his peripheral vision, boys turned from their lockers to watch as Blaine and Sebastian rushed passed. Phones were brought out and took pictures or video. It made him want to break something -- preferably the mobile phones.

“We _were_ going to stay through dinner,” Sebastian said, once he realized he had been quiet too long. “I am not staying here through dinner. We are going. Please tell me we can leave.” He slowed and cut off a gaggle of freshmen to get Blaine to a quiet space by the wall so they could talk.

“What, I have final say, now?” Blaine poked Sebastian in the shoulder and the taller boy finally looked at him. Blaine was smiling slightly, just enough to be reassuring. Their eyes caught, and Sebastian was lost. He slid his hand down Blaine’s arm until he covered the other boy’s hand, and then Blaine tangled their fingers together. Evidently, the most recent gossip rags magazines were not enough to deter Devon’s need for physical comfort. It may have eased some of the stress in Sebastian, too.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sebastian said, squeezing Blaine’s fingers. Blaine always had final say, anyone with eyes knew that. It was pathetic how Blaine had Sebastian wrapped around his finger and did not even realize it.

“Will you survive long enough for me to grab my suitcase?” Blaine teased. “I’m going to L.A. tomorrow morning, and then New York Sunday night. I’d rather not have to buy all new things before I sit down for interviews.”

“You’re leaving?” Sebastian asked, even though it was a stupid question. Devon would be on every morning and late night show he could book with his school schedule for the next month, at least.

“I’ll be back by Tuesday,” Blaine said. “Wednesday, at the latest.” He looked down the hall. “We should get going.”

“Wednesday,” echoed Sebastian. He cleared his throat. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You’ve got Marina to worry about.”

Sebastian used his free hand to turn Blaine back to face him. “Killer. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Bas,” Blaine said, and bit his lip.

Sebastian waited for an answer. He knew he wanted to go with Blaine, even if it was just to hang out at Blaine’s hotel and run up a room service bill, so that Blaine would have someone in his corner. Riley was great, but no matter how close the two were, Blaine paid for his services. Sebastian wanted to be there because Blaine was his best friend.

But Blaine could be both stubborn and private with his grief. If Blaine refused him Sebastian would go along with it, even if he might not agree, because Blaine had the final say.

Fuck, he was getting maudlin.

“Ask me again after we see Marina,” Blaine suggested. “You might change your mind.”

“You drive a hard bargain, De-- B.” Sebastian dropped his arms to his side. “Alright, it looks like the mad rush died down. Let’s stop talking and get going.”

“You were the one that wanted to talk!” Blaine objected, as the two started for the dorms.

“You wanted to plan our weekend,” Sebastian said.

“You were being impulsive. I was being practical.”

“You were out of breath. It’s okay, not everyone can be six two. Or six foot.” Sebastian eyed Blaine critically. “Or even five eight.”

“Did you resort to short jokes?” Blaine asked. “Stairs,” he warned. Sebastian went back to watching where he was walking instead of his friend.

“I was being considerate.”

“Right,” Blaine said, his voice warm with amusement. “I just have this problem where I mix up mockery and politeness.”

“That is quite a problem,” Sebastian said. “Maybe you should see someone about that.” He held open the outside doors for Blaine.

They continued to bicker as they crossed campus to the dorms. It felt good to banter and flirt like normal. Earlier, it had been to prove a point and put up a front. ‘ _I am not bothered by everything that’s happening,_ ’ was what Blaine and Sebastian had been saying during most of their conversations that day. When they teased each other on the way to the dorms, it was because they liked the back and forth.

After they parted ways to go to their separate rooms, Sebastian quickly packed a bag for a few days away from school. If he did end up going with Blaine, he did not want to have to return to the dorms for clothes and toiletries. He was hunting for his phone charger when Blaine knocked on his door.

“Did you really want to take your car?” Blaine asked, sitting at Sebastian’s desk and watching his dig through a mess of sheet music and cords.

“I hate your car,” Sebastian said absently. “You have a perfectly nice Mercedes _and_ a Porsche back home. Getting in your Camry makes me break out in hives.”

“I almost got a Kia Rio,” Blaine mused. “Then I imagined the look on your face.”

“Why would you say that? Soul-sucking monster,” Sebastian said.

Blaine did not respond.

Sebastian needed to start thinking before he spoke, dammit. He turned to look at Blaine.

“Devon, fuck. I didn’t mean that.”

Blaine had lost all the color their brisk walk across campus had brought to his cheeks. He swallowed, and looked down, probably to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes.

Marina was better, but Blaine’s problems were not. Why couldn’t he remember that?

Blaine cleared his throat. “I was thinking we might want to call for a car. I don’t know what the hospital is going to be like, so. It might be better to get a ride. The guard would meet us at the door.”

Sebastian dropped the cords and papers and crossed so he could kneel in front of Blaine.

“D-- Blaine. B. _Look at me_.”

Blaine looked miserable as he brought his eyes up to meet Sebastian’s. “You don’t need to say anything. I know that -- I know that wasn’t how you meant it.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sebastian said, gripping Blaine’s shoulders. “He’s a complete moron for ever saying anything like that to you. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“But he’s right,” Blaine said, voice thickening as he blinked back tears. “I lied for our entire friendship. I didn’t -- I never even considered telling him the truth, not really. I laughed about it with you. God, I laughed because he didn’t know that I was the guy he had a crush on. That was -- that was awful of me. That was the kind of thing a monster does.”

Sebastian shook Blaine lightly. “You didn’t do it on purpose. And you weren’t l--”

“You told me to tell people! _And I didn’t listen!_ ”

“You made a mistake!” Sebastian dug his fingers into Blaine’s shoulders, forced them to relax, and tugged Blaine down into his arms. Blaine would usually wrap himself about Sebastian, curling his arms and legs around Sebastian and letting the other boy hold him together. This time, Blaine just sprawled limp in Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian hugged Blaine tightly, pressed his nose in Blaine’s curls, and tried to find some way to help.

“You made a mistake,” Sebastian said, quieter, his words muffled by Blaine’s hair. “Someone really wise once told me that we aren’t defined by our mistakes, but by how we live with them.”

Blaine sobbed into Sebastian’s shoulder. He said something, but Sebastian could not understand any of the words.

“Blaine, this isn’t the end of the world.”

“I wanted him,” Blaine whispered. “I wanted him, and now I’ve ruined everything.”

“Maybe he just needs time,” Sebastian said, rocking back and forth as though he were holding Marina. He did not want Hummel back in Blaine’s life. This was the second meltdown in as many days, and Sebastian wanted to hurt Hummel for causing them. Blaine deserved better than this, no matter how offended Hummel was by being kept out of the loop.

“No,” Blaine rasped. “He -- he sent Riley a letter. His dad sent the letter. They asked me never to contact Kurt again. It talked about psychological damage and cruelty and I -- I really fucked up, Bas.”

Sebastian kissed Blaine’s temple. “He’s an idiot. You’re the best thing in my life, and if he doesn’t want you around, it’s his loss.” He felt Blaine move, felt Blaine’s arms slide up Sebastian’s back as the other boy finally responded to Sebastian’s affection.

“I really fucked up,” Blaine repeated. “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix what happened with Kurt. I can’t fix what people are saying about me. I’ve managed to fuck everything up.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sebastian said. “You’ve got me. We can fix anything.” He adjusted his grip on Blaine. “We’ll go see Marina, and then we’ll go to L.A., and then New York, and we’ll fix this together.”

Blaine took a shuddering breath. “You’re stealing my lines,” he said.

“I’m not one to waste a good setup,” Sebastian said. “Anything you could dream of doing wouldn’t be half as bad as what I’ve done, and we got through that. We can do this.” He was sure Blaine did not believe him, but that was fine. Sebastian had more than enough time to convince him.

* * *

Though Blaine had suggested calling a car in an effort to keep from discussing the Hummel situation, it was a good idea. It took twenty minutes for Blaine to put himself back together, and so by the time they were actually ready to leave, the car had just arrived. Sebastian and Blaine rode to the hospital in the back of a black limousine, partition up the entire time. Blaine wore mirrored black sunglasses in addition to his hat and guitar in a soft case slung over one shoulder. Sebastian dressed in flashy red and hoped he would be enough of a distraction.

A new guard hustled them from the car up to Marina’s room. She glared strangers away from their elevator and did not speak to them after she introduced herself as Irene. The halls were busier today than yesterday, or maybe Sebastian was better able to be annoyed by the attention.

When they arrived at Marina’s door, Sebastian was on edge and spoiling for a fight, Blaine was pale and withdrawn and still wearing sunglasses, and Irene was so carefully blank she was practically a fresh canvas. Walking into the room and spying Sheila reading _Anne of Green Gables_ to the little girl only made things worse. Logically, it made sense that Sheila was there. Emotionally, Sebastian did not want to see her.

Before he could say anything, Blaine stepped in front of him and took off his sunglasses.

“Hi, Mrs. Smythe.” He reached out and shook Sheila’s hand. “Hi Marina,” he said to fragile shape on the bed.

Sebastian could see Marina over Blaine’s shoulder. She looked, if anything, worse than last night, with her skin dull white like the sheets and her eyes glassy and unfocused. When Devon smiled at her, though, she turned her head and grinned weakly at him.

“Hi, Devon,” she said. “Is Bas-Bas with you?”

“He’s right here,” Blaine gestured behind him. Sebastian took the opportunity to skirt around Sheila and Blaine and sink down on the bed beside Marina.

“Hey there, Superstar,” Sebastian murmured. He reached out and traced along her cheek. The skin was much cooler than it had been the night before.

Blaine turned back to Sheila. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you get dinner? Sebastian and I will stick around for a few hours.”

Sheila did look awful. She was almost as pale as Marina, and her red hair was frizzing out and escaping from a sloppy topknot. She was still wearing the same sweats she had been in last night, and desperately needed a shower.

“Oh,” Sheila said. “No, I’m fine. We’re good, right, Mare?”

Marina yawned. “Want Bas-bas,” she said, reaching for him.

Sebastian felt a little gratified by her regard, though also troubled by the simple sentence structure. He remembered that there had been concern about organ damage, and how hot Marina had been last night, and worried about brain damage. Part of him wanted to turn to Sheila and interrogate her, but now was not the time. Instead, he lifted Marina across his lap, careful not to jar the IV or other instruments monitoring her condition.

“You’ve got me,” he said, kissing her brow. “Now what are you going to do with me?”

“It’s just for a couple hours,” he heard Blaine whisper to Sheila. “I’ve got your number. I’ll call if she needs you.”

Marina nuzzled his chest. Sebastian did his best to shrug out of his coat without disturbing her, letting the heavy leather slide off the bed and onto the floor without a thought.

“You seem sleepy,” he observed. “Are you ready for a nap?”

Marina’s face screwed up in a grimace. “I slept for hours,” she said. “I want Bas-Bas. I couldn’t find you all day.”

He should have come earlier. Blaine’s hand curled around his shoulder, comforting and warm. Earlier would have meant leaving Blaine.

“How about we eat dinner with you?” Blaine offered, now standing next to Sebastian. If Sebastian leaned back, he could rest his head against Blaine’s chest.

“Mmm.” Marina looked skeptically at the bedside table, where a mostly untouched tray of mush was cooling.

“It looks so appetizing, though,” Sebastian said, following her gaze.

Marina giggled. Blaine pinched him.

“What if I bribe you?” Blaine asked, taking off his guitar and resting it on the floor. He sat down at the end of the bed and crossed his legs.

“I don’t want any candy,” Marina said. “But you can eat it, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Sebastian said, “I don’t think that’s the plan, you devious mastermind.” Marina seemed to be waking up, growing more alert and interacting with both of them equally. Sebastian let the worry about her mind slip away. He turned to see if Sheila was being quiet on purpose or if the woman had collapsed into sleep on the floor, but she was no longer in the room.

“She’ll be back in a few hours,” Blaine said. “Until then, it’s just us. I thought we might have a private concert, once you were done with your food, of course.” He turned his attention to Marina and smiled.

Marina looked interested. “But you play today,” she bargained. “My hands are tired.”

Sebastian kissed the top of her head. “Don’t encourage the boy. He’ll start thinking we actually like it when he brings his guitar places.”

“Well, you could play instead. If you want,” Blaine teased.

Sebastian mock glared at him. “Far be it from me to keep you from showing off.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said. “I appreciate that. Alright, Marina, how about Sebastian helps you eat, and I play some music to make dinner a little more fun?” He reached down and got out his guitar. “How about a spaghetti song?”

Sebastian adjusted Marina until she was sitting upright in his lap. “Don’t tell your mother we let you eat like this,” he warned, setting the tray across her knees. “And if you make a mess, we’re going to run and leave Devon to take the blame.”

“Classy,” Blaine said.

_“On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese_

_I lost my poor meatball ‘cause somebody sneezed_

_It rolled off the table, then rolled ‘cross the floor_

_And then my poor meatball rolled right out the door.”_

Marina giggled. “I want a meatball,” she announced.

“Eat your food,” Sebastian told her.

_“It rolled to the garden, then under a bush,”_ Blaine continued, winking at Sebastian, as Marina started to eat.

“I don’t even know where you learn these songs,” Sebastian muttered.

Blaine took a break in the next verse to say, “The waffle song,” before he continued.

That was fair. The waffle song was a silly, catchy song that he entirely blamed on Saturday morning cartoons. Letting the television substitute for a babysitter was a bad idea, and Sebastian’s parents should be ashamed of themselves.

“Can you do the waffle song next?” Marina said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Blaine nodded as he sang, _“And then the next summer it grew into a tree.”_

Marina bounced.

They sang silly songs until her eyelids drooped. The waffle song was followed by _The Lion King_ , and then by ‘Oh Susannah,’ and others Sebastian did not know, until Marina yawned and Sebastian set the now empty tray to the side. Blaine finished up a song about cowboys and astronauts, and glanced from Sebastian to Marina.

“This next one is very special,” he said.

Marina blinked sleepily at him, but did not say anything. Sebastian helped her lie down on the bed and pet her hair as she grew more lethargic.

“I wrote this song myself,” Blaine said. “I was very sad for a while, and when I started to feel better, I wanted to write a song so other sad people would feel better. Close your eyes, and Sebastian and I will sing it to you. Does that sound good?”?”

“M’kay,” Marina said, pressing her cheek against her pillow.

“You know this one,” Devon told Sebastian.

_“I’ve been alone, surrounded by darkness_

_And I’ve seen how heartless the world can be.”_

Sebastian closed his eyes and leaned back against the plastic headboard, Marina’s head by his hip and his toes pressed against Blaine’s thigh. He felt warm and happy, safe with his two favorite people and grateful that he still had them. He could have lost both of them, and they were both there next to him. He listened to Blaine strum chords on the guitar and smiled. ‘Not Alone’ was meant for piano, but Blaine made his Takamine work. The depth of meaning, and Blaine’s emotion as he sang to Sebastian and his sister, made the song as heartbreakingly beautiful as though he had a grand piano and orchestra behind him.

_“I’ve seen you crying. You felt like it’s hopeless._

_I’ll always do my best to make you see,”_ Sebastian sang. He opened his eyes to look at Blaine, and saw the other boy smiling softly at him. Sebastian wanted to kiss him. They both sang,

_“Baby you’re not alone, ‘cause you’re here with me_

_And nothing’s ever gonna bring us down_

_‘Cause nothing can keep me from loving you_

_And you know it’s true._

_It don’t matter what’ll come to be,_

_Our love is all we need to make it through.”_

Marina was asleep when they finished. Blaine put away his guitar, and Sebastian slid down the bed until they were next to each other.

“Blaine,” Sebastian whispered.

Blaine finished zipping the case and set the guitar back on the ground. “Bas,” he whispered back. His eyes were big and sweet, liquid honey. Blaine smelled like raspberries and coffee. Sebastian was too close, should have stayed back. He itched to reach out and touch, to run his fingers along the line of Blaine’s collarbone and up the curve of his jaw. Their thighs pressed together as Sebastian shifted on the bed. If he leaned in, he could press kisses against Blaine’s cheek, trail them across his nose and down to his lips. He could kiss Blaine, lovely, selfless Blaine, who --

“Hi, boys,” Sheila said.

Sebastian jerked at the interruption, snapping his head around to face the door and found Sheila, refreshed and carrying a takeout tray filled with coffee.

“Thanks for the break, guys. Is she asleep?” Sheila continued.

Sebastian grit his teeth. It was probably better that she had walked in. It was better that nothing happened, because Blaine had been crying over Hummel just a few hours before, and Sebastian could not -- did not want -- he --

While he tried to figure out his own racing thoughts, Blaine greeted Sheila.

“My gosh, is it nine already?” Blaine said. “We should get going. Um, yes, going. I’ll just -- I have to call the car, we didn’t drive here. I’ll be right outside. Doing that.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Sebastian told him, watching Blaine snatch up his guitar and leave the room. “Right behind you,” he repeated, scrubbing at his eyes with his hand.

He was in over his head. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Tina visits Blaine, and Sebastian visits Kurt. Things go as well as can be expected.


	13. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina visits Blaine, and Sebastian visits Kurt. Things go as well as can be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly, as always
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr betaed and held my hand for this one. She is amazing, talented, and one of the sweetest people I know. Thank you for all your hard work!
> 
> If you reviewed, commented, followed, favorited, reblogged, etc, thank you so much. All of it is appreciated.
> 
> WARNINGS in this chapter for abusive language and references to violence and suicide.

The following days were awful. Blaine had never been the center of scandal. His secret identity and subsequent reveal changed that. All of a sudden, people were discussing the ethics of what Blaine had done. People Blaine would have considered friendly acquaintances gave interviews and talked about being deceived, or how they had known all along. Photos of Blaine in uniform were in such high demand that Dalton actually banned cameras and pictures from being taken on campus. More than one teacher seemed to take the news as a personal affront, and started targeting Blaine during lectures.

In response, Blaine did what he always did when he felt hurt. He hid.

Day eight of the media blitz, and Sebastian was again getting lunch for both Blaine and himself from the cafeteria. Blaine was up in his secret hideout, trying to get through all the homework he had missed due to his New York interviews the day before. There were a few teachers who were cutting him more slack because of the stress, but Mr. Dawes, his Italian teacher, and Professor Kujawski, his U.S. History teacher, had both piled on the homework and classwork and told Blaine that outside commitments were not excuses.

Sebastian was filling a tray with food for two when he became aware of Matthew Ellis watching him from a few feet away.

“If you try to follow me,” Sebastian said pleasantly, “I will have you expelled from the school for harassment.”

Matthew Ellis’ eyes went wide. “What? No! That’s not — there’s this girl, and she wants to see Blaine, and I know that’s not going to happen unless you okay it, so —”

“There are a lot of girls that want to see Blaine,” Sebastian said dryly, tossing a ten dollar bill at the cashier and turning toward the dorms. “Tell your sister or girlfriend or whatever to stalk Hollywood Boulevard like every other fifteen year old who’s soaked her panties because she thinks she has a shot.”

“Dude, Blaine is gay,” Matthew said, after a moment. “Aren’t you guys dating, or something? And it’s not my sister. She’s this Asian chick. I thought I once saw a picture of her in Blaine’s room, that’s the only reason I’m passing it on. She’s been stuck in the office, fighting with Dr. Voss all morning.”

Sebastian frowned. What was her name? “Tanya?” he asked.

Matthew looked uncomfortable. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

Was it worth it to go to the administrative building to find out? Sebastian hesitated, and then turned toward the admin center. It was not that far out of his way, and if it was Tanya, the least he could do was see what she wanted. She had been nice, the once time Sebastian had met her, and Blaine could use all the friends he could get.

“Sebastian,” Matthew said, caused Sebastian to glance back over his shoulder. “Tell Blaine he can eat with the Lacrosse team. We’ll keep the Warblers and the rest of the school from harassing him.”

“The Warblers aren’t harassing Blaine,” Sebastian protested.

Matthew shrugged. “Whatever. If I were you, I’d be getting a little jealous of the way Wes Montgomery keeps looking at your boy, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Ellis.” He dismissed the other boy, and continued to the admin building.

There he did find the little Asian girl from the Lima Bean, throwing her hands up in exasperation and declaring, “I actually know Blaine! We’ve been friends for years!” to Doctor Voss. Dr. Voss had her coat on and was fiddling with the buttons as she stood in the doorway to her office with Tanya at her elbow. It looked as though Tanya was foiling her efforts for a quiet lunch.

The secretary was watching the two with barely veiled amusement, and did not notice Sebastian slip into the main office.

Sebastian knocked on the doorframe. Again, no one noticed him.

“My name is Tina. T-I-N-A. Just ask Blaine, he’ll tell you who I am,” Tina -- that was right, Sebastian remembered now -- continued.

“Ms. Cohen-Chang,” Dr. Voss said, pulling on her gloves.

Sebastian knocked harder. “Hi, Tina,” he said.

Tina and Dr. Voss turned to look at him.

“Sebastian!” Tina yelped, flushing.

“Mr. Smythe,” Dr. Voss said archly. “What brings you here?”

“I heard Tina was here,” Sebastian said. “I thought I’d show her around.”

Dr. Voss looked visibly relieved that he would take Tina off her hands. “Well, then,” she said. “I’ll have Mrs. Block arrange a visitor’s pass. Don’t miss class, Mr. Smythe. Things are already shaken up around here without you getting written up for skipping.”

Sebastian smiled his best smile. “Of course, Dr. Voss. Come on, Tina.”

Mrs. Block must have been the secretary, because she was already scribbling out a note as Dr. Voss swept out of the office. Sebastian opened the door and held it for Tina.

Tina took her pass from the secretary and went out into the hall. “You’re a lifesaver!” she said. “Thank you so much. Can I help you carry that?”

Sebastian jerked his head for her to follow, and headed for one of the private nooks that were scattered throughout the halls of the admin building. When they came to a stop, he ignored her question in favor of jumping straight to the point. “Why are you here?”

Tina blinked. “I--I wanted to see Blaine.”

“I figured that one out myself. Why?”

Tina looked at him for a long moment, then around the hall. She said, “I figured it out back at the Lima Bean. That Blaine was secretly Devon.”

“I’ve heard this story before,” Sebastian mused. “It wasn’t very good the last time, either.”

“You called him ‘Killer.’”

Sebastian was unimpressed. “Alright.”

“You call Devon ‘Killer’ all the time. I’ve seen you guys talk on TV, and it’s totally your silly nickname for Devon. Then you called Blaine ‘Killer’ when we got coffee, and I realized that Blaine looks an awful lot like Devon with straight hair and glasses,” Tina explained.

Sebastian vaguely remembered what Tina was talking about.

_("Don't look so scared, Killer, it's not even a little illegal."  Beside him, Tina started.)_

He was really bad at this secret-keeping business.

“I didn’t tell anyone then, but now I want to tell Blaine that I knew, and it doesn’t change how I think of him,” Tina finished.

Sebastian looked away from her. “All right,” he said. “Come on.” He started toward the dorms, Tina at his heels.

 

* * *

 

Sebastian took Tina up to Blaine’s dorm room. He set the lunch tray on the desk, and gestured around. “I’m going to get Blaine away from his books,” he told her. “Don’t touch anything.”

Tina had already wandered over to the pictures Blaine kept on his wall, so Sebastian was content to leave her to drag Blaine out of his hideout. He left the door barely cracked behind him, and went up the stairs to the little reading room.

Blaine was bent over a textbook when Sebastian opened the door, pen tapping at his cheek and notebooks and papers spread before him on the floor. He looked exhausted, with dark bruises under his eyes, and tomorrow’s early flight meant there would be no real rest tonight.

“Hey, B,” Sebastian announced himself. “You’ve got a visitor. Put away your math before you go blind and come hang out with actual people.”

Blaine blinked up at him. “Is it Kurt?” he asked.

Sebastian managed not to roll his eyes, but only just. “No,” Sebastian said. “If it was, I’d have tossed him out on his ass and never brought it up.”

Blaine set his pencil down and straightened his back. “You shouldn’t be mad at Kurt. This isn’t his fault.”

“I don’t want to have this argument,” Sebastian said definitively. “You think he’s justified, I want him strung up by his small intestine. Let’s move on. Tina’s downstairs.” He crossed the room so he was standing behind Blaine and bodily lifted the smaller boy to his feet. “Up and at ‘em, Killer.”

Blaine elbowed him away. “Tina? Why is Tina here?” He began to smooth down his gelled curls, even though he did not need to, because Blaine Anderson used enough gel to keep his hair straight during a hurricane.

“No idea,” Sebastian lied. “But we won’t find out if you sit here and try to fix your hair, which is fine, by the way.” He reached out and tugged Blaine’s hands down and held them. “Also, lunch is there, so we better go fast. I remember how your friends ate back at the Lima Bean. If we don’t rush, we won’t have any food at all.”

“You’re terrible,” Blaine said, but a smile spread across his lips and eased the stress marks around his eyes. “All right, let’s go.”

They almost managed to slam the door into Tina’s face when they came to Blaine’s dorm. She had been looking at Blaine’s life-sized Sebastian poster on the back of the door when they came in. It was only her yelp and Sebastian’s quick reflexes that saved her from a broken nose.

“Tina! I’m sorry! Are you okay?” Blaine rushed toward her as the girl stumbled back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tina said, though she looked a little dazed.

Solicitously, Blaine took her elbow and guided her down onto the bed and hovered over her. Tina waved away his concern.

“No, really, I’m fine,” she said. “Sit down, Blaine-drop. You’re making me dizzy.”

Blaine-drop. Really?

Blaine obligingly sat beside Tina on the bed, though the worry did not fade from his face. “I’ll meet you after class,” he told Sebastian.

It was a clear dismissal, but Sebastian hesitated. He had spent a lot of time over the last week watching Blaine pretend to be okay, and struggle not to break down. It had been getting better, and he did not regret any of the time spent on Blaine’s sorrow. Still, he worried that this conversation with Tina would head straight for half-healed wounds and rip them right open. If Sebastian was there, he could intervene if needed.

“My lunch is here,” Sebastian said. “I brought you food, and now you’re kicking me out?”

“You can eat down in the cafeteria,” Blaine pointed out.

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “You ask the world of me, Killer. Alright. But I’m taking your dessert.” He left the room worried and annoyed and aware that he was being ridiculous. It was unlikely that the girl he had walked with would be cruel. Sebastian had no reason to think that she would be anything but the sweet, easily flustered girl she had been at the Lima Bean. Tina would not hurt Blaine. He needed to leave them alone to that she could tell Blaine he was still a good person, not hover like an overprotective soccer mom.

What he really needed was coffee.

 

* * *

 

Skipping class for coffee was one of his better plans. Sebastian stepped into the Lima Bean and inhaled the scent of overpriced, over designed drinks. The soothing aroma eased the worry in his soul, and he relaxed. Coffee would make things better.

Even though it was midday, and teenagers were stuck at school and adults were trapped at work, there was a decent crowd at the Lima Bean. There was a grey haired old man in a suit and tie with a sulking preteen, a couple mothers with toddlers running around and causing trouble, and a book club taking over a selection of armchairs by an electric fireplace. The baristas were huddled behind the counter talking quietly, and looked over at Sebastian as he walked into the shop.

“Mr. Smythe!” one of the girls shrieked. Then she coughed, and repeated in a much quieter and lower voice, “Mr. Smythe. Welcome to the Lima Bean.” Her face flushed bright red, and her coworker giggled.

“Hi, ladies,” Sebastian said, smiling as he walked up to the counter. “Just a -- huh. I haven’t seen that one, yet.”

Behind the counter was one of the tabloids, probably a recent one, with a grainy picture of Blaine and Sebastian walking down a street in L.A. Blaine was smiling up at Sebastian from where he was tucked under the other boy’s arm. Gossip and rumors and a headline asking how many other lies Devon had told. Sebastian hid his frown. Someone needed to have an affair, or get pregnant, or get caught with drugs and get the attention off Blaine. It had been over a week. Something more interesting should be happening in Hollywood.

“I -- it’s from today’s issue,” the blushing barista (Jenn, according to her name tag) said. “We were just talking about what Devon did.”

“He seems better in that photo,” the other girl, Stacy, offered. “I saw his interview on Good Morning America on Tuesday, and he looked two steps from falling asleep in his chair.”

There was something ironic about Sebastian being unable to escape the Devon situation, but he was too annoyed to think about it. Instead, he said, “He’s been doing a lot of publicity, lately. He’d look more awake if he learned how to sleep on planes.”

Stacy cooed. “He hasn’t been sleeping?”

Could he just get his coffee?

“Hmm,” Jenn said. She looked from the paper to Sebastian and back.

“What?” Sebastian asked, because he was a glutton for punishment. It was possible she wanted an autograph. It was more likely that --

“Why did he do it?” Jenn asked. “I mean, he lied about who he was for years. I just don’t get it. Why?”

\-- She was going to whine about Blaine’s story.

Sebastian said, “Surprisingly, it wasn’t some grand scheme to piss off his entire fanbase,” with enough bite that even he could not tell if he was being mean or sarcastic. “It wasn’t about you. It was about Devon, and what he needed to do to be safe.”

“Feel safe from what?” Jenn demanded. “He’s always talking about being yourself, and how you shouldn’t hide who you are, and it turns out he had a whole secret life that no one knew about? How could he -- why would he do that?”

“It’s Ohio,” Stacy objected. “This isn’t exactly gay-friendly USA. And clearly Sebastian knew about it. Devon must have told his friends.”

“He lived in L.A.,” Jenn argued, at the same time someone else said, “No, he didn’t.”

Sebastian knew the voice. It made his entire body tense and thrum with controlled fury. Obviously, he had been wrong about coffee being worth the aggravation.

“Hummel,” Sebastian finally said, turning very slowly.

Kurt Hummel came in with the winter wind, his face as still as a frozen pond and his eyes as cold as a January sky. He stood behind Sebastian like an ice statue, his mouth a frigid current. Sebastian huddled deeper in his coat and scarf before he realized what he was doing. His lips curled with scorn and he straightened his spine.

“Don’t you have class in Westerville.” It was not a question. Hummel’s voice was too stripped of tone and emotion for that.

Sebastian cocked a challenging brow. “I could say the same thing. I’ve at least got legitimate excuses for why I’m out of class, and the bank account to prove it. Shouldn’t you be singing Kumbaya with the rest of the public school losers?”

Hummel drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“In the interests of honesty,” Sebastian said, “I wouldn’t listen if you gave one.”

Anger stirred in Hummel’s eyes. “Honesty, from you? Every word out of your mouth is poison.”

Sebastian laughed at him. “I’m not the one who sends his friends away crying.” An image of Blaine at the hospital, red eyed and so quiet, flashed across Sebastian’s mind. He ground his teeth and sneered, “I’m not the asshole who --”

“I wouldn’t make those accusations, if I were you,” Hummel interrupted. “Considering a) you weren’t there, so how would you know what happened, and b) I’m not the one who’s convinced a girl to put a bullet in her brain, you don’t really have any ground to stand on.”

That _fucking asshole_.

Through the descending red rage, Sebastian spat, “I’ve spent the last two years making up for that. I may have fucked up, but at least I admit it. You just sit there and pretend to be the victim, like you didn’t have as much to do with making this mess as --”

“He lied to me!” Hummel shouted over Sebastian. “Did you think it was funny?! Did you laugh when you talked about me?! Did you think it was some kind of game, to sit there all smug and superior and listen to me talk about how I felt and people who were im--”

“Yes,” Sebastian said viciously as Hummel grew more upset. Hummel wanted to bring up sensitive subjects? Sebastian could play that game. Sebastian could _win_ that game.

Hummel stopped screeching and stared at Sebastian, mouth dropping open. The icy cold was gone, drained away, and his eyes widened with shock. “W-what?” he asked.

“Yes, we did laugh. I thought it was funny. I still think it’s fucking hysterical, actually, how you sat there and pretended to know him so well when you couldn’t even see past a bad gel job and a pair of thick framed glasses.”

“And how did you figure it out?” Hummel’s voice was brittle, and Sebastian was glad. “Did you recognize him from the shape of his ass? No one else recognized his face. Did you know when you finished using him that you’d had him before?”

“I’ve never touched Blaine Anderson,” Sebastian snapped, clenching his fists and taking a step closer to tower over Hummel. Hummel tried to back away, but Sebastian smirked and came nearer still. Let Hummel be afraid. Let him feel small and scared and attacked. Devon’s warm eyes turned bleak and teary, and Hannah Bertolli’s bloody curls hovered on the edges of Sebastian’s vision.

“And I bet if you’d shut up about your pathetic problems with Facebook and college and let Blaine talk once in a while, he might have actually told you. It’s hard to tell someone a secret when they won’t close their fucking mouth.” Sebastian mocked.

Hummel flinched as though struck. “You’re the real monster,” he said. “Blaine deserves you.”

“No,” Sebastian said, “You’ve got it backwards. Blaine deserves a hell of a lot better than you. You are nothing, and will only ever be nothing. You spent so much time complaining about your life you forgot to do the work to get out of here, and then you alienated the one person in the entire country who would have bought you a ticket.”

Sebastian watched, unimpressed, as Hummel swallowed back a sob.

“How would you know?” Hummel demanded. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Newsflash, Rainbow Bright, you spend so much time bitching I’m pretty sure all of Ohio knows about your oh-so-tragic life as a Congressman’s son. They just don’t care. You’re a fuck up, Hummel, and a loser, and you’re never going to be anything else.” Sebastian evaluated the other boy dispassionately. Hummel was shaking, now, his eyes wide and the tears finally streaking down his face. Sebastian smirked.

At some point during the argument, the coffee shop had gone silent except for Hummel’s choked sobs. Everyone was staring at them, and they were pale and horrified.

“I’m going to have to find a different coffee shop,” Sebastian said, looking away from their judgments. “Someplace where the clientele knows the meaning of decorum.” He started to walk out.

“Maybe I’ll never be anything but a Lima Loser,” Hummel said, in a voice thick with tears, “But at least I don’t look a murderer in the eye every time I look in the mirror.”

An image of Hannah with a gun flashed through his mind. Sebastian ignored it, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Repercussions


	14. Argue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly. Happy 2014!
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr betaed and put up with my procrastination. Thank you!
> 
> If you reviewed, commented, followed, favorited, reblogged, etc, thank you so much. All of it is appreciated.
> 
> WARNINGS in this chapter for suicide and gun violence.

Getting drunk before five on a Friday was probably a mistake.

The mid-afternoon bar scene was never exiting, but Columbus, Ohio, took underwhelming to a whole new level. Sebastian found himself seated in a nearly empty bar with a surly bartender who kept giving him looks when Sebastian would order another. It took three shots for Sebastian to ignore the judgment on his face. This was probably going to be on the news tomorrow, along with that stupid argument --

_“I’m not the one who’s convinced a girl to put a bullet in her brain”_

_“You’re a fuck up, Hummel, and a loser, and you’re never going to be anything else.”_

\-- and then everyone would stop paying attention to Devon because they would all be watching the Sebastian-Smythe-screws-up-again show.

Sebastian downed another shot.

It had been months since Sebastian had gone out drinking for the soul purpose of getting shit-faced. The last time had been because Marina had been diagnosed. He had gotten trashed every day for a week, and he had drunk dialed Blaine so many times his friend had flown out to L.A. Blaine had not fixed anything -- Sebastian was a firm believer that the only person who could change you was, well, you -- but Blaine had made Sebastian want to fix things. Moving to Ohio was part of the fixing things.

Getting drunk was not fixing things. Sebastian ordered another, anyway.

“You might want to slow down,” the bartender said.

“Shut up,” Sebastian slurred. “I’m not paying for commentary.”

The bartender scowled deeper, and Sebastian slapped another bill down on the bar. “Another,” he repeated. He was fine. Besides, it was Friday. He could get as drunk as he wanted, and he had all weekend to recover.

Another shot slid in front of him. Sebastian blinked at it. “Thanks,” he muttered, because manners were important. Devon liked manners, at least. Please and thank you and excuse me.

He did not remember much, after that.

* * *

  _“It’s willpower,” Sebastian said derisively._

_“Willpower,” the interviewer said dubiously._

_Sebastian explained, but he had no idea what he was saying. Why were they even talking about this? “Instead of eating another Twinkie, have a fucking apple. Or nothing at all; it’s not like anyone wants to see a person stuffing their face all the time, anyway.” He was seated at a table and gesturing as he talked to the interviewer, whose blue eyes glittered with joy over the words. Anita was going to kill him. Sebastian’s mouth shaped the words even as he tried to bite his tongue on them. He could still hear himself speak: “If you want to die of a heart attack that badly, do the world a favor and --” Something red sparked in his vision. Sebastian turned his head and there was Hannah, a drop of blood sliding down her perfect porcelain face._

_Hannah said, “I’m so sorry.”_

_Eyeliner, mascara, tears, and blood were smearing across her cheeks. In a distant, numb part of his mind, Sebastian thought that this was wrong. Why was there blood? There should not have been blood._

_“Miss, put the gun down,” someone said from behind him._

_It made Hannah sob harder. “I just can’t change it,” she said. “I’ve tried and tried and I’m sorry.”_

_Sebastian was frozen in place by the gun. He had not noticed it in her hand until now. He had never seen one up close before, and it was mesmerizing, the black barrel that flowed back into a silver trigger with a plump index finger, nail painted pink, shaking back and forth and back and forth and back and Sebastian tore his eyes up toward her face. It was a mess of tears and snot. It was disgusting and Sebastian would have recoiled if he could have moved. He had thought she was pretty when he had first seen her, even if she could stand to lose twenty pounds. He had been wrong._

_“Just put the gun down,” someone said again._

_Hannah choked on her tears. The entire world dwindled back down to a pink spot of polish on silver trigger. That was a gun. That was a gun pointed at Sebastian, whose tongue was so dry in his mouth it felt like it would crack. Now that he needed them, the words he had tried so hard to stop were dead on his tongue. Dead, like he was about to be._

_He was going to d--_

_A sound cracked through the air and deafened him. Sebastian waited for the bullet and watched as the girl’s frizzy blonde curls exploded out and then there was -- there was --_

* * *

 His phone alarm was shrieking at five thirty, and he had no idea where he was or what was going on. Sebastian jerked awake and trembled for five long minutes before he became aware enough to wonder why his alarm was going off only three hours after he had gone to bed. The alarm continued to ring. He put aside the question and fumbled across the mattress for his phone. It was not there.

Pants.

Sebastian groped over the edge of the bed for his slacks. The alarm finally stopped, then started its cycle again, and Sebastian nearly cried. He finally found his phone in his pocket, silenced the alarm, and looked around through bleary eyes.

He recognized the guest room in his father’s house. Slowly, the shaking eased, and he rolled over and buried his head in one of the pillows. His head was pounding from the hangover, and the dream.

Anita had told Sebastian Hannah’s name at the hospital, while he washed blood off his hands. Hannah had come to one of his meet and greets before a show, and had not even introduced herself before she pulled out a gun and killed herself.

She had apologized.

Sebastian squeezed the pillow tighter and tried to focus on other things. The ache in his head helped, making it hard to think of anything but the pain and his own exhaustion. He thought about calling Blaine, but before he could remember his unlock code, he managed to fall back to sleep.

Two hours later, Blaine called.

“What?” Sebastian murmured into the receiver, once he had gone through another arduous process of finding his phone. His head throbbed, and his eyes hurt so much he wanted to pry them out of his skull with spoons. Grey light edged through the cracks in the curtains on the window. Sebastian turned into his pillow, his phone still cradled against one ear.

“Are you still coming?” Blaine asked, sounding tired and exasperated.

Sebastian squinted into his pillow. “What?” he asked again, voice almost unintelligible.

“Sebastian, we board in half an hour. Are you going to be here?”

Slowly, Sebastian started to come awake. Plane, boarding, Blaine. “Fuck,” he said, lifting his head enough to speak clearly. “We’re going home.” He swallowed twice in an effort to wet his mouth, and rolled over. “Of course I’m coming,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”

“Sebastian!” Blaine cried, as Sebastian hung up and dropped the phone onto the mattress beside him. His entire body ached. He needed water and aspirin and another five hours in bed before he was ready to face today.

Plane, boarding, Blaine. Home.

Sebastian took a deep breath, and looked around. He could probably find aspirin in the bathroom, if he could just figure out where he was and where the bathroom was located in relation. Direct recall was a problem.

The last thing he remembered clearly was a dive in Columbus. There were flashes, after that -- loud music and bright lights, hard liquor and harder bodies. Dancing, Sebastian had definitely danced last night. Boys and girls, college students from the university who wanted to party, especially with him. There had been kissing. He was fairly certain he had ended up somewhere safe and familiar because of a hazy memory of waking up and going back to sleep. He hoped someone had put him in a cab to get back. He had been in no shape to drive home.

Which was his father’s house in Columbus, and not Dalton, for some reason. He recognized the pale blue bedspread and abundance of white and silver pillows as his stepmother’s decorating. They were the same pillows he and Devon had slept on last week, after they had been banished from Marina’s bedside. He could almost imagine that the pillow was still scented with Blaine’s hair gel. It took all his willpower to roll off the bed and away from those comforting memories, but he managed. If he could get to the airport on time, he could have actual Blaine.

Sebastian called a cab, and then splashed enough water on his face to pass as awake. He stole some of his father’s clothes to wear (his uniform was, by this point, missing the blazer entirely and smelled like alcohol and sweat) and found painkillers in the master suite. Neither his father nor his stepmother was home. Marina was still in the hospital, and Sheila rarely left her side, but Sebastian had no idea where Gilbert Smythe was. He tucked his wallet, keys, and phone into his borrowed pockets, and went outside to meet the cab. Hopefully fifteen minutes would be enough time to get to the airport.

* * *

It was enough time, but only because the plane was delayed an hour by a storm in Charlotte. The airport was still quiet at a little after eight in the morning, and there were a bare handful of passengers at the gate for his flight when Sebastian arrived. Blaine was seated by himself near the back wall, reading a book. Sebastian dropped heavily into the seat beside him laid his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

Blaine’s dark curls were loose and pretty, free from gel since he was traveling for business. He wore jeans and his favorite Burberry scarf. Devon in winter always looked so approachable, as though Sebastian could reach out, touch, and keep. Even the wool coat looked warm instead of scratchy. The coziness of the ensemble was belied by swollen red eyes, though. Sebastian wondered in Blaine had slept at all, last night.

“’Morning,” he said. The aspirin had taken the edge off his hangover, though bright lights still caused him pain. He would sleep on the plane. Blaine would be there, and maybe he would run his fingers through Sebastian’s hair to soothe him to sleep. Sebastian felt tender and weak, scraped raw by things he was trying not to think about. Blaine was an excellent sleep-guardian. “You look awful.”

Blaine sighed and shifted against Sebastian. “You’re lucky. You should have missed this flight.”

Sebastian nuzzled closer. “Don’t yell at me. I think my head might explode.” Since Sebastian had ditched Blaine so thoroughly last night, it might be a good idea to wring some sympathy out of his friend. Now that the hangover was fading, and he was waking up, all the important things Sebastian had forgotten started to come back. Tina had been with Blaine, and Sebastian still had no idea how that had gone.  He should have gone back to Dalton last night, not drinking, no matter how badly he felt.

“Was it a good party, at least?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian hummed against Blaine’s neck. “Don’t remember enough to know. Or maybe that means it was epic, I don’t know.” His eyes slid shut and he yawned.

“I guess that’s good?” Blaine asked. Then, before Sebastian could respond, he said, “Kurt called me last night.”

Sebastian sat upright. “What?” he turned to look properly at his friend. “Why did he call?”

Why would Hummel call Blaine? Did Hummel really break his self-imposed exile in order to tattle? There had been no way to keep Blaine from finding out about the argument, unless the entire crowd at the Lima Bean had an attack of conscience and did not talk, but Sebastian had been preparing to tell Blaine himself. Sort of. The drinking and the hangover had put a crimp in said plans, but keeping it a secret had never been an option.

“He said something about a fight in the Lima Bean,” Blaine said. He was tense, and his jaw was stubbornly set.

In response, Sebastian squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. “We argued,” he said. He had just wanted coffee. Hummel had wanted to talk, and it had all escalated from there. Blaine had terrible taste in boys. “I went for coffee yesterday and ran into him. He’s an asshole.”

That had been the wrong thing to say.

Blaine stiffened. His eyes widened vulnerably and he licked his lip once before saying, “That’s not what Kurt said. Did you really threaten to hit him?”

Hit Hummel? “I don’t hit, or threaten to hit, girls,” Sebastian said. He snorted derisively. “Fuck, I take back the asshole comment. He’s just plain psycho. We argued. I left. Nothing else happened.” He glared at Blaine. He wanted to mention Hannah, but the words stuck in his throat. Blaine was supposed to know him well enough not to accuse him, anyway. Why was he taking Hummel’s side in this?

“Really?” Blaine asked. “So you didn’t back him against the door and call him a fuck up?”

Sebastian focused through the digital screen that showed the estimated arrival time for their flight. He had intimidated Hummel, but it had just been a way to make Hummel understand that Sebastian was not someone to toy with, and not someone who would roll over and blame himself for the fight. Had he backed Hummel up that far? “I don’t remember,” Sebastian said. “I know I didn’t touch him. And he started everything. I was just there for coffee.”

“He started everything?” Blaine asked incredulously. “You were at the Lima Bean. It’s over an hour away! It was the middle of the school day, and you just had to get coffee from the Lima Bean?”

Indignation flared hot in his chest. “What are you looking for, B? You know I like their coffee. Do you think I’m lying?” Sebastian whipped around to face the other boy, taking in the poorly hidden anger and sadness in his eyes. Blaine was accusing him of lying, of picking a fight, of premeditated cruelty that Sebastian tried to put behind him. Blaine was supposed to know him better than this.

Blaine took a deep breath. “You’ve had a problem with Kurt since you met him. Did you go there looking to pick a fight?”

“What? No!”

“Really? Because I can’t think of a better way to keep Kurt from ever forgiving me. He’s never going to forgive me. Do you even know what you did? He was my best friend! I thought I was in love with him! And now you break him apart in small-town Ohio? I don’t understand you!” Blaine’s big eyes welled with tears and that -- that was unfair; how _dare_ Blaine cry when he was the one accusing Sebastian.

Sebastian jumped up and paced furiously for a moment before turning back to Blaine. “Fuck, Devon, what was I supposed to do? Let him call you names?!”

“You think you were defending me?" Blaine stared up at him. “Really? Because if I had factored into that argument at all, wouldn’t you have realized that I would never want you to do that to someone I care about?”

“He hurt you!” Sebastian spat, stepping closer. “I’m not going to let him get away with that, no matter what you think you deserve.”

“I hurt _him_. If he’s upset with me, he has every right --” Blaine defended.

“He had _no right_ ,” Sebastian snarled, reaching out and shaking Blaine by his shoulders. “He has _no right to hurt you. No one_ has the right to hurt you. Don’t you get that?”

“No!” Devon cried. “No, I don’t get that. I don’t accept that. I don’t understand why you think you can justify the things you said!”

“Because I love you!” Sebastian exclaimed, then stopped speaking, shocked.

He did not mean to say that. What had he just said?

Blaine seemed just as stunned. He froze, staring up at Sebastian, and said, “What?”

“I love you,” Sebastian repeated, slowly, then he continued faster, the words pouring out. It was as though a dam had burst inside Sebastian and everything he’d been feeling for years was flooding out. His hands were still tight on Blaine’s shoulders, and Blaine was still staring up at him with bewildered eyes. “I’ve loved you for years. You’ve spent all this time crying about how you screwed up so badly and why were you such an idiot, and how you deserve to be beaten and abused for your crimes. You don’t even seem to realize that I’d do anything to keep that from happening.” Sebastian snapped his jaw shut, finally managing to stop talking, but the damage was done.

Blaine’s jaw had dropped, and he was gaping up at Sebastian. Blaine’s hands were frozen at his sides, his shoulders were stiff under Sebastian’s fingers, and he did not speak a word. At any other time, Sebastian would have thought it was hilarious. This time, after the silence dragged on for too long, he released his grip on Blaine, and stepped back from his friend.

A tiny, insidious part of Sebastian’s heart had felt a moment of relief, when he finally let Devon know his true feelings. That speck of hope drowned in the silence that then flooded his veins like ice water. His hangover flared back up with sudden, riotous fury. Sebastian took another step back, and another, watching as Blaine fought to find words or even close his mouth.

“Fuck,” Sebastian said. “Call me when you’ve figured yourself out. I can’t do this anymore.” He turned and walked as fast as he could back toward the security checkpoint, no longer able to stomach climbing on a plane. He refused to turn around to see if Blaine followed, even though he wanted to. Blaine was probably going to stay sitting there, in the middle of the airport, desperately trying to process all the things Sebastian had told him. With the way their luck had been going lately, some opportunistic photographer would stumble upon Blaine and take the next cover of USA Today. It was almost enough to make Sebastian go back. Almost.

Blaine knew, now.

As soon as he turned the first corner, Sebastian broke into a run.

_Fuck_ , he thought. Blaine knew, and had said nothing, and now Sebastian was leaving (fleeing) as fast as he could because the cold, hard truth was this: as much as Sebastian wanted Blaine, as much as he wanted everything, the good, the bad, the rock star and the math geek, Sebastian didn’t register as a blip on Blaine’s radar. The only thing that Blaine Devon Anderson could see was a cruel, arrogant, delicate princess who did not want him back.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Marina comes home.


	15. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina comes home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Never Grow Up" is owned by Taylor Swift
> 
> For Dolly, as always. One day you might even bring yourself to read this ;)
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr is amazing and betaed and never yells about my scheduling or lack of. Best Beta Ever!
> 
> If you reviewed, commented, followed, favorited, reblogged, etc, thank you so much. All of it is appreciated.
> 
> This is this week's chapter, a little early, or a little late, depending on how you count it. I'm sorry for missing last week, this was hard to write and I wanted to be sure I got it right, not fast.

A few days after the battle at the Lima Bean, Anita and Sebastian had lunch.

He had been putting her off ever since he had called her to let her know that their Christmas break plans -- trailing after Blaine and running up his room service bill -- were canceled, and she was free to do as she wished for the holiday. Sebastian had accepted his step-mother’s invitation, and would stay in Columbus. His manager had promptly scheduled dinner for them, and then, when Sebastian canceled, breakfast, and then dinner again, and finally lunch, where she had turned up at the Dalton gates and dragged him out of school and into a bistro with her.

“I only have an hour,” Sebastian said while they waited for their server.

Anita glared at him. “With the amount we’re paying that school? You have as much time as you want and need.”

Sebastian scrunched up his nose at her. “I’m trying to stay under the radar. Blatantly flaunting the rules seems counterproductive.” Even he couldn’t manage to say it with a straight face, though.

Anita laughed out loud, and their waiter arrived while she was dabbing her eyes with a napkin. After they ordered, Anita said, “Nice try, kid, but I’m not going to get sidetracked. The Lima Bean. Kurt Hummel. Talk.”

Sebastian fidgeted with his drink. “There isn’t anything to tell,” he said.

“Seb, stop prevaricate--”

“I told Blaine how I feel about him,” Sebastian blurted out.

Anita paused mid-sentence. “Oh, Sebastian,” she said, then recovered. “I take it he reacted poorly?” Her worried eyes belied her casual tone. Sebastian was grateful, both for her concern, and her manner.

The realization that Blaine was not going to show up at his door with flowers and a song had hit Sebastian on Monday, after days of radio silence. Monday was when the other boy had sent notice to Dalton that he would be in New York or L.A. for the entire week before break. When the school had excused Devon for that week, Sebastian had understood that his confession had irreparably damaged his friendship with Blaine, and sent the other boy running. He called Anita, and changed all their plans. Sebastian would count himself lucky if Blaine returned to Dalton for the final semester of high school.

The waiter arrived with their food, and Sebastian stayed silent while they were served. When they were alone again, he said, “I don’t know. He didn’t really say anything.” He looked disinterestedly down at his sandwich.

Anita blew on her soup to cool it, keeping him from having to make eye contact. She said, “Devon didn’t say anything? That I find hard to believe,” and took a careful sip. “Much less you letting him get away with that.”

There were two ways to look at the current conversation. One was that if they were discussing Sebastian’s relationship -- or lack of relationship -- with Devon, they were not discussing what passed between Kurt Hummel and Sebastian at the Lima Bean. The other was that he had trapped himself in a place where he had to discuss his feelings with his manager and that was a mistake on multiple levels.

Sebastian took a bite of his sandwich so he could avoid answering right away. While he chewed, he tried to figure out how much he wanted to tell her. He finally said, “I left after he spent five minutes staring at me like I was crazy. It was obvious he’d never even considered the idea. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Anita pursed her lips. “Really? Are you sure?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian stared at her. “I think I would know if I had heard from him. He called in _busy_ for the _entire week_ so he could avoid me.”

“Calm down, kid. I’m just saying that I always thought I was watching _When Harry Met Sally_ , not _Sixteen Candles_.”

Sebastian blinked. “What are those? Are those movies? Are you comparing my life to romantic comedies, again?”

“We need to work on your pop culture references. Those three years you spent living in France will get you into trouble, one day.” Anita took another sip of soup. “You should eat faster. You’re worried about missing class, remember?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes but obligingly took another bite of sandwich. “You think you’re funny,” he said. “You’re not.”

“I’m hilarious,” Anita said. “I have my husband in stitches every night when I tell him about work. Hey!” She caught the potato chip Sebastian had tossed at her head, and set it carefully to the side of her bowl. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you.”

Sebastian threw another chip. “Stitches? Who talks like that? Are you sure Neil isn’t laughing because he can’t understand what you’re saying?”

Anita snickered. “He has a PhD is Victorian Literature; I’m pretty sure he could tell you the evolution of the word. Anyway, all I’m saying is: don’t give up on Devon. You haven’t spoken to him since Saturday, so you have no idea what he’s thinking. And at the risk of inflating your ego, he could do a lot worse than to date you.”

“Thanks,” Sebastian said. “I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Anita said. “And I know you’re still trying to distract me, kid. Stop beating around the bush. Tell me what happened with Kurt Hummel.”

In the week since the disastrous meeting at the Lima Bean, there had been little backlash over the fight with Hummel. A couple of the gossip blogs had a note about it, and some clips had surfaced, but on the whole, no one had shown too much fuss. Sebastian was cautiously optimistic that the timing, so close the holidays, and low quality videos, grainy and almost unintelligible, were working in his favor. He was not willing to relax completely (that time with the parking meter had taught him the folly in that) but he had stopped scrolling through Perez’s blog between classes.

He had also felt that, since Anita had allowed him to put off meeting with her, his optimism was well warranted.

Sebastian ate his pickle. “Nothing happened,” he said after swallowing. “We ran into each other last week and spoke a little, and then I let.”

“How long did you practice that?” Anita asked. “Have you tried actually looking at the person you’re talking to? You are much better at lying than this. I almost feel ashamed enough to let you get away with it.”

Sebastian grunted.

“Start talking, Seb.”

Slowly, unwillingly, Sebastian looked up at her. “It was just petty bullshit. He was talking about how Devon was a liar, I called him a hypocrite, and it spun out of control. Hummel mentioned Hannah, and said I killed her, and I called him some names.”

Anita sighed, setting down her spoon. “People call you out about Hannah all the time, Sebastian.”

Sebastian jerked upright and glared. “I didn’t kill her,” he spat. Blaine’s voice echoed in his head, _“People make their own choices, Sebastian, and this isn’t your fault.”_

“I know that,” Anita said. “Dammit, Seb, of course I know that. But there have been people who blamed you for a long time, and you’ve never had this kind of reaction.”

“No one’s ever ripped Blaine to pieces the way he has,” Sebastian pointed out, a growl of remembered fury in his voice.

Anita looked sympathetic. “You’re a good kid. All right, I think I know enough. You might want to apologize to Hummel, though, before this blows out of proportion. I know you’ve been worried about the Devon story, but getting into a fight in a coffee shop really isn’t the best way to take attention off your friend.”

“I would rather cut off my dick with a spoon,” Sebastian said flatly.

“Think about it,” Anita urged.

Sebastian ignored her, and started to eat in earnest.

Anita broke her roll and sponged her soup. She said, “Are you really planning to stay here in Ohio for your holiday? You could go back to L.A. for the next two weeks, or even fly out to see your mother. She’d be thrilled.”

“No,” Sebastian said between bites. “Columbus is fine. I’ve never done Christmas with Marina. It’ll be a new experience.”

Last Christmas had been spent at a party in L.A., dancing with Blaine, and then in bed with the very gorgeous star of whatever teen flick had just been released. It had been a great Christmas, actually. Sebastian was pretty sure he spent the entire week between Christmas and New Year’s drunk and covered in glitter. He had planned on spending Christmas Eve at a charity gig with Blaine this year, and then at Blaine’s house on the coast. Maybe it was better this way. Christmas with Marina had potential. He imagined there would be a lot less alcohol, but also less need to play duck-and-cover with the cameras. There were always trade-offs.

His manager grinned. “You do realize she’s going to wake you up at five in the morning for presents, right?”

“What? No,” Sebastian denied. “Is that something kids do?”

They parted ways after lunch, Sebastian to return to Dalton, and Anita to the airport to catch a flight to Europe. It was the first time in years she had Christmas off, she had told Sebastian, and she and her husband were going to enjoy it. Sebastian went to his classes, and tried not to feel the void of Blaine beside him. 

* * *

That afternoon, Sebastian drove to his father’s house in Columbus. He brought with him a suitcase, his book bag, and a box filled to the brim with presents for Marina. Today was the day she came home from the hospital, and he planned on being there for it, even if it meant commuting to Dalton for the last Friday before break.

“Sebastian!” Sheila said, holding the door open for him while he balanced all his things in his arms and tried to get in the house. “You’re here early!”

Sebastian let his suitcase and bag tumble to the floor of the foyer, but kept a firm grip on the presents. Some were fragile. “It’s only a twenty minute drive from campus,” he said. “Why are you here? I thought you’d still be at the hospital.”

Sheila tried to take the box from him, then grabbed up his dropped luggage when he refused to let go. “I’ll have this put in your room,” she said. “I thought, since you’re here so often, we’d just convert the blue guest room into yours! Your father and I had it redone this week; it’s sort of an early Christmas gift.”

With an undignified grunt, Sebastian managed to adjust the box in his arms so he could look at Sheila. She looked --

Sebastian could not decide how she looked. Her eyes were wide and wild, and her skin was splotchy under her freckles. Her bright red hair looked as though it had once been neatly braided in a crown, but wisps now stuck out all over. Sheila wore a Christmas sweater and a green skirt, but both were heavily wrinkled, and the sleeves were pulled out of shape. Her smile of greeting seemed a caricature of good cheer.

“I don’t want a room here,” Sebastian said. “Is Marina home already?” He started for the stairs to the little girl’s bedroom.

“No!” Sheila said, grabbing his arm. “Wait. I’m sorry, I just -- I need to talk to you. Can we sit down in the study?”

Sebastian was tired, from school, from Anita, from the constant worry over Blaine and his indiscretion with Hummel. He was in no mood to indulge Sheila’s theatrics. “Let go of me,” he said, shaking loose. “What the hell?”

“Sebastian,” Sheila said quietly. “Please.”

Something in her tone made shivers crawl down Sebastian’s spine. He had never heard his step-mother sound as such. This was not the hysterics when Marina had been hospitalized, or the frantic joy from when Marina’s fever had broken, but something else.

“Let me put this box down, first,” Sebastian said, and did so.

They walked in silence to the study. Sebastian had never fully explored his father’s new house. At first, he had been too angry to care, and then, he had spent most of his time with Marina. He and his father had often spoken in the study of their old house in Massachusetts, though. When Sebastian walked into the new study, he felt disoriented, as though he were ten years old and about to listen to his father’s secrets to being a man, not eighteen and about to have a serious conversation with his father’s new wife.

But Sheila closed the door behind him, locking herself out of the room, and Sebastian found his father sitting in a wingback chair before a fire. The scene was so familiar Sebastian almost gasped, but then he registered the defeat in his father’s posture, and he became frightened, instead.

“Hello, Seb,” Gilbert said. He sounded old. “Sit down.”

Sebastian sat gingerly in the opposing chair. The fire was hot on his knees, but did little to warm him.

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked like this.” Gilbert sounded far away, and he stared at the fire as though it were whispering to him.

“You cheated on my mom and ran off with your secretary,” Sebastian said, unwilling to play the game of the nostalgic past. “If you want to have some kind of father-son reconciliation, you’re out of your mind.”

Gilbert almost smiled. “That’s not--” he said. “Seb, they didn’t send Marina home because she’s better.”

It was an abrupt change in topic. Sebastian furrowed his brow, trying to follow the conversation, even as the hairs on the back of his neck pricked in horror.

“Obviously. She has cancer,” Sebastian said, very slowly, as though talking to a child. “That isn’t something that gets better with a trip to the emergency room.”

“No,” his father said. “It’s not.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, until the fire sparked loudly and a log cracked.

Sebastian started, then said, “Well, thanks for this. I’ll be going now.” He pushed at the chair to stand.

“She’s got a month left.”

What?

“What?” asked Sebastian, dropping back into his seat. “What did you say?”

Gilbert Smythe repeated, “She’s got a month left.”

Sebastian went numb.

His father continued. “We always knew it was a long shot. Her cancer was so advanced; they told us that fighting might just hurt her in the long run. But they don’t -- the doctors can’t -- there isn’t anything to be done. It’s hopeless.”

_(“My Daddy says I’m a hopeless case!”)_

Sebastian tried to swallow but could not, his mouth was too dry, his body would not listen to his commands. His father picked something up from beside him, and placed it on Sebastian’s lap.

“The latest test results,” Gilbert said.

It took Sebastian three tries to get his arms and hands to move and open the folder. He flipped through charts, lab results, what appeared to be pictures and scans of the inside of Marina’s body, then notes scrawled in terrible script, prescriptions and instructions and a sheet labeled ‘Hospice.’

“I don’t understand,” Sebastian finally managed to say.

Gilbert was silent for a moment. “Me either,” he said.

* * *

 They had moved Marina to a first floor bedroom. Sebastian knocked quietly, and let himself in when there was no answer.

The nightlight was plugged in, and there were no toys scattered on the floor. Marina had not been home long enough to make a mess. Sebastian should have found it easy to cross the room, but it felt as though he were trying to walk through molasses, or as though the gravity in the room had tripled, and it was all he could do not to collapse on the floor.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Marina was asleep, and practically swaddled in blankets. She was wearing a knitted cap and Rapunzel was cuddled up under her chin.

Sebastian reached out slowly, and brushed his fingertips down her sallow cheek. Very quietly, he managed to sing,

_Oh darling, I want to watch you grow up,_

_Promise me you'll grow up, don't stay so little._

_Oh honey why don't you grow up,_

_Promise me you'll grow up. It could be that simple._

_I won't let nobody hurt you, won’t let no one break your heart,_

_And even though you're tired, just promise me you’ll grow up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sheila chimes in


	16. Support Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheila chimes in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr betaed and did an amazing job, as always.
> 
> If you reviewed, commented, followed, favorited, reblogged, etc, thank you so much. All of it is appreciated.

“Welcome home, Superstar,” Sebastian said the next morning, when Marina was finally awake.

The misty grey of pre-dawn was slowing seeping into the kitchen, making the cheerful lights of the breakfast nook where Sebastian sat eating with Gilbert and Sheila look almost rosy. Sebastian had slept badly, waking frequently to check on Marina and then strum his guitar until the noise in his head quieted enough to sleep again. Getting up and dressed for school was automatic, something to occupy the early hours of morning. He had come downstairs to find food already on the table, and had sat down to eat before he realized how awkward it would be to have breakfast with his father and stepmother.

Marina’s entrance was a welcome distraction, but she looked just as unhappy with the situation. Sebastian figured she was already regretting her decision to get out of bed. Her face was pinched in a scowl and she was wearing two robes over her pajamas, as well as slippers over her socks. Marina skulked over to the breakfast nook and glared ineffectually at the chair beside Sebastian.

“Honey, you are not that short,” Sheila said with forced cheer. “You don’t need to con your brother into picking you up.”

Sebastian paused midway through getting up to help Marina into the chair. He looked down at the girl with one quizzical brow raised. “Really?” he asked, some of his concern turning to amusement at the thought of Marina manipulating him.

Marina scowled harder. “I’m tired,” she announced, crawling up onto the chair. It was a slow process, and her legs tangled in her robes, but Sheila shook her head to keep Sebastian from intervening.

Gilbert Smythe folded away his newspaper and leaned across the table to serve his daughter. “You could have stayed in bed a little longer,” he said, putting toast and eggs before her and pouring a small cup of juice.

Marina shook her head. “Bas-Bas,” was all she said, and leaned over her plate. She did not actually eat anything, though she poked at the eggs with her fork.

It was weird. No, weird was an understatement. It was downright unnatural to sit for breakfast with his father, stepmother, and sister. It felt a like playing house with people who all had the wrong roles. Gilbert looked deeply uncomfortable in jeans and a casual polo, and gone back to hiding his face behind his newspaper and coffee. Sheila looked less frazzled than the day before, but it could have just been early enough that she had not had a chance to rip apart her carefully made up hair and pressed button up. Even Sebastian felt wrong, dressed in his second best blazer and tie (the best having been lost, one way or another, last weekend).

Sebastian forced the conversation. “Did you sleep well?” he asked Marina.

Marina looked grateful to be able to stop pretending to eat her eggs. “It was cold,” she said. “When did Bas-Bas come back?”

Sheila and Sebastian reached out at the same time to check the little girl’s temperature. She whimpered and pulled away from them. “No,” she said. “I’m not sick.” As though to prove her point, she stuffed half her toast into her mouth at once and tried to chew.

Sebastian and his father both winced. Sebastian drew back, but Sheila pressed her wrist to Marina’s forehead.

“Maybe we should get you a heater for your room,” she said. Her voice was steady and light. Sebastian wondered how she managed. “I’ll get you some tea, would that help?”

Marina shook her head. It took her a while to swallow her toast, but when she did, she said, “No. I want Bas-Bas.”

Sebastian was unable to resist, and he reached out and pulled the little girl into his lap. She tucked herself into a ball and cuddled under his blazer.

“Better?” Sebastian asked.

Marina nodded. “Stay?” she asked.

Before Sebastian could agree, Gilbert intervened. “No,” he said. “Seb has school, Mare. Come on, if you’re done eating, let’s go stake out the den. You’ve got a visitor coming in a few hours, but I think we have time to watch Tangled.”

Sebastian was so shocked at the idea that his father -- Gilbert Smythe, who once threatened _him_ with a restraining order -- was going to watch Disney movies with Marina that he did not protest until after Gilbert had coaxed Marina out of the room. Finally, he managed to sputter, “No, it’s fine, I can --” but Sheila was the only one there.

His stepmother tried to take his hand, but Sebastian jerked out of reach. “It’s okay,” she said. “Go to school, Sebastian. She’ll still be here when you get back.”

“She’s dying,” Sebastian choked out.

“I know,” Sheila said. “But not today.”

* * *

Sebastian tried to go to class, figuring that at least school would take his mind off of everything that had happened. The lack of Blaine was a constant reminder of his own failure, and there was a voice in his head that said Marina’s name over and over again. Finally, after 55 minutes of staring incomprehensibly at the whiteboard, Sebastian escaped to his dorm room. He locked the door, curled up on the bed, and slept to avoid his demons. It did not work as well as he might have hoped.

For the last hour of the school day, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, anger and rage and helplessness roiling under his skin. He felt powerless, and afraid, and very lonely. Three times he reached for his cell phone, and three times he slid it back into his pocket without making a call.

Anita would come immediately, he knew.

He was not sure about Devon.

He drove back to his father’s home as soon as the last bell had rung, not even bothering to sign out for the weekend. He drove too fast and ran too many red lights, and stormed into the house like the winter chill was chasing him down.

Sebastian found Marina in her playroom, coloring at a low table. An older woman was beside her, and the two were speaking quietly. She must have been the visitor his father had mentioned earlier. Sebastian was about to let them know he was there when a light touch on his arm distracted him. He turned to find Sheila standing at his elbow.

“Her psychologist,” Sheila whispered. “They’ll only be few minutes longer. I just put some coffee on, why don’t you have a cup while you wait?” She headed toward the kitchen, and Sebastian followed.

“Why is she seeing a psychologist?” Sebastian asked. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked, unable to stop the thrum of anger and energy. Marina would have settled him, but she was busy. What five year old went to a psychologist?

 _One who’s dying, moron_ , the voice in his head pointed out.

“She goes every other week,” Sheila said, entering the kitchen and crossing to the coffee. She poured Sebastian a cup and he took it with a grimace of thanks. Sheila continued, “Your father and I wanted to have her opinion before we told Marina that -- that --” Sheila’s eyes dropped to the floor, and she shuddered.

Sebastian’s hands tightened on his mug. “She doesn’t know?” he demanded.

Sheila shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell her,” she whispered. Her shoulders shook again, but her face remained still. Sebastian wondered how she could talk about her daughter’s death without breaking down.

They stood silently in the kitchen for a few minutes until the psychologist knocked on the door and poked her head in.

“Sheila?” the woman asked. “Let’s talk for a few minutes.”

Sheila left the room, and Sebastian walked over to the table and sat down with his coffee, staring mindlessly into the drink and thinking of being five years old and already in therapy. Of being five years old and oblivious to your mother trying to find the words to say you were dying. Of being five years old, and already looking at your last Christmas. His hands tightened again on his mug, and he set it down on the table and pushed it away so he would not shatter the glass.

For the first time, he noticed that the table was covered in papers and notes. A laptop was open and a slideshow of pictures were rotating as its screensaver. He tapped the touchpad and the login screen came up. With no distraction coming from the computer, he turned to the papers.

They were Marina’s medical records. Not the file from yesterday, though that was probably somewhere on the table, but all her records, from her original diagnosis on. It was surreal to see the progress of her disease laid out before him. He had known the little girl was sick, but he had never imagined that it was something she could not beat, that the cancer was something she could not handle. It was the complications they had to worry about. Except that was not true, and as Sebastian paged through the files he wondered how long it had been inevitable, and how long it had taken Gilbert and Sheila to admit it out loud.

Sebastian looked through another file, this one filled with letters and scientific articles. His brow furrowed, and he turned the pages so he could see them better.

They were letters and printed emails requesting Marina be placed in studies. Sebastian’s breath stuck in his throat, because paired with each letter or email was a response. A _rejection_ , some of them very firm, as though the Smythes had to be told ‘no’ over and over and the writer just wanted them to stop asking. There were dozens of them, some of them splattered with teardrops, going back the last eighteen months. Sebastian went back to the first letter, and found it was postmarked earlier that week.

That was the letter, Sebastian realized, the final letter that meant there was no hope left, that meant Marina was going to die at five years old.

He stood abruptly, still holding the letter. The edges crinkled under his grip. He read it slower, more carefully, and it was horrible.

 _We extend our most heartfelt sympathies_ , and _we’ve included a list of providers that will help_ , and _please use the support groups,_ and Sebastian had never felt as gutted as he did in that moment. He dropped the letter on the ground. His ears were filled with a roaring sound and his hands and fingers were trembling with emotion.

Sebastian threw the table into the wall. Papers, coffee, and computer went flying, scattering everywhere. Shards of glass went skittering across the floor. Sebastian reached for something else, anything else, to destroy, and found the coffee pot. He smashed it into the wall, heedless of the broken pieces that bit his hands and the scalding drink that burned his flesh. He reached again for something, and found himself pulled back and away.

He fought with uncoordinated, jerky movements, but Sebastian was dragged back from the mess and against the door.

“-Bastian! Sebastian!” Over the roar of his own pulse, he heard his own name.

Sebastian stopped struggling and started to sob. He collapsed, dragging the arms around him down, and folded into himself on the floor. Someone wrapped themselves around him, and pet his hair, and crooned soothingly at him. Sebastian cried great, hiccupping sobs, and hid his face, and could not think of anything beyond the rage, and the grief, and the _fury_.

When he was too exhausted to cry, he looked up.

Sheila was there, still whispering kind words and running her hands through his hair. Sebastian did not have the energy to hate her.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Sheila asked, once she realized he was coherent.

Sebastian pushed himself into a sitting position. “I’m fine,” he rasped.

Sheila sighed, and cupped his cheek. “Seb, no one is fine right now.”

It made everything hit him all over again, and he wanted Blaine with a sudden impossible desire that cracked open his chest and spilled his heart upon the floor.

“I need to go,” he said. “I need to, I need --” To his horror, tears pooled again in his eyes.

Sheila hugged him. “Do you want me to call Devon?” she asked.

Sebastian shook his head. “Not talking to each other,” between gulping breaths for air.

“Oh, Seb,” Sheila said, sounding just like Anita. “This has been a pretty shitty week, hasn’t it?”

Sebastian almost laughed. “Fuck, if only you knew.”

“Tell me,” Sheila said.

Sebastian glanced at her, then at his knees. “I fought with Blaine last week. We were supposed to go to L.A. together, but I walked away from him. We haven’t spoken since.” He traced patterns on his thigh. “But I told him how I feel about him. How I lo--care for him. And he hasn’t talked to me since then. I haven’t even gotten a text.”

“That’s kind of cruel of him,” Sheila observed.

“Blaine isn’t cruel,” Sebastian defended immediately. “We had just been fighting. I got into an argument with a friend of his and. And maybe I went a little too far.” He looked up at Sheila, then at the wall. “Supposedly Hummel felt threatened. He was the one tossing around words like --” _murderer_ , he did not finish.

Sheila said, “You and your father are a lot alike, you know that?”

Sebastian whipped his head around to stare at his stepmother. “What?” he said. “Are you out of your mind?”

Sheila’s lips twitched. “You both have so much passion,” she said.

“Passion?” Sebastian demanded.

“Yes,” Sheila’s eyes glinted. “You love with everything you have, and you never do anything halfway. Your Devon’s a lucky guy to have you -- I’m lucky I have your father. But it means sometimes you hurt people, when you’re angry, or when you feel hurt, and that can be hard to watch.”

Watching her, Sebastian wondered if she knew about some of the conversations between he and Gilbert. Did she know that her husband had threatened Sebastian with a restraining order? Did she know the fights they had before Sebastian went to France with his mother? Did she know that Sebastian had not received a birthday card, or a Christmas card, or even a phone call from his father for two years after the divorce?

“I never want to hurt Devon,” Sebastian said softly.

“Do you think you did?” Sheila asked.

Sebastian shrugged, then sighed. “Maybe. I think I hurt Hummel, more, though. Devon kept asking me if I did it on purpose, and I didn’t. But maybe …” he bit his lip. “Maybe I did know, a little. I was annoyed, and I went for coffee. Maybe I was really hoping for a fight.”

It was hard to see himself as deliberately setting up the fight with Hummel. Sebastian had thought he had put that part of himself away. After he had hurt so many people with one stupid interview, he had thought he had fixed that part of himself. Even considering the idea that he was still that person who could wound someone and then avoid the responsibility was difficult.

Yet he had been looking for a fight for that entire Friday. First, with Matthew Ellis, who had only wanted to help, and then with Tina, who had been there for Blaine, and finally with Hummel, who had obliged him.

“I didn’t take it back, last time,” he told Anita, after the silence had stretched and he knew she would not say anything.

She made a quizzical noise.

“Before Hannah, I didn’t take back what I said, or apologize, or tell anyone I was being an ass and they shouldn’t listen to me,” he explained. “I just hoped it would go away. And then Hannah k-killed herself, and I couldn’t fix everything.”

“No one’s perfect, Seb,” Sheila said. “You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I didn’t pull the trigger,” Sebastian said. “But that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I think I owe Kurt Hummel an apology.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Kurt and Sebastian, redux


	17. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Sebastian, redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly
> 
> I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, my Grandmother died and it was delayed. I also did not respond to comments this last chapter, and I'm sorry. I'll do better this time.
> 
> Thank you so much for reviewing, responding, reblogging, liking, commenting, or just enjoying :)
> 
> Gleedimples on Tumblr betaed this monster because she is so cool and amazing. So it's better, more polished, and um, I had the wrong day's weather, so I fixed that. too. Minor updates abound!

The Hummel house was a two story suburban dream with flower beds out front and white vinyl siding. Both the drive and sidewalk were neatly paved and multicolored Christmas lights edged the roof and doors. It looked very middle class, and nothing at all like what Sebastian would have expected of a US Congressman. Where was the ostentatious fountain, or the tall wrought iron fence? It was a little disappointing. On what, exactly, was Burt Hummel spending taxpayer money, if not himself?

Sebastian could almost hear Blaine’s voice whisper that he should stop thinking the worst of people.

“Alright, Smythe,” he said aloud, though he was alone in his car, parked in front of said House. He fiddled with the zip on the leather document holder in his lap. “Man up, and get in there.” He checked the buttons on his coat, and swept out of the car and up the driveway, case in hand.

Sebastian knocked twice on the door, and then rocked back on his heels to wait. After thirty seconds of no response, he knocked again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, hold your horses,” someone shouted. There was a muffled thump and a curse, and then the door was thrown open.

Sebastian did his best to smile at the man now silhouetted in the door frame. “Congressman Hummel? Nice to meet you. I’m Sebastian Smythe. Is Kurt around?” He spoke a little too fast, jittery with nerves.

The man at the door was tall, broad, and unimpressed. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt, and his socks had a hole in one toe. Sebastian half wondered if he was wrong, and this was actually Congressman Hummel’s lazier brother. Were those grease stains on his knees?

“I’ve heard about you,” the Congressman said after a long pause, and finally took Sebastian’s hand. He settled in at the door, conveniently blocking Sebastian from entering. He had a good handshake, firm without aggression, and his eyes were sharp and assessing. Sebastian revised his underwhelming estimation of the man’s character.

“I get that a lot,” Sebastian said, putting his hand in his pocket.

“Why are you here?”

Damn. Sebastian did not want to explain himself to the man. He hedged. “It’s a personal matter between me and your son. Is he in? Can I talk to him?”

“I have two sons,” Congressman Hummel said. “Why don’t you explain why you’re here before I go get them.” That was not a question.

Sebastian bit his tongue on the words, ‘I already said I was looking for Kurt,’ and straightened his already impeccable posture. “As I said, it’s a personal matter.” He stared directly into the man’s eyes, realized this was going nowhere, and said, “We spoke last week, and I was rude. I want to apologize.”

This time, the silence from the Congressman was surprised. “You aren’t what I was expecting,” the man said.

“I get _that_ a lot, too,” Sebastian said, a touch self-deprecating. “Can I come in, yet? It’s a wet out here.”

The Congressman started, and backed into the house so Sebastian could enter. “What? Oh, sure. Yeah, it’s quite the warm spell we’ve been having.”

 “Thanks, Congressman,” Sebastian said, now that he was allowed inside. He was in a small foyer, with white walls and pretty knickknacks on shelves. There were stairs to the left, and a hallway that went back into the house, with open doors that probably lead to the living spaces in the house.

“Call me Burt,” the Congressman said. “We aren’t in Washington. Why don’t you have a seat in the living room, and I’ll go get Kurt.” Burt gestured to a room off the long hallway, and then disappeared up the stairs. Sebastian followed his directions to a room with a sofa, television, and several easy chairs around a low coffee table. There was another door at the far end of the room, surrounded by shelves filled with books and CDs.

He set the document case on the coffee table, and looked appraisingly at the photos on the walls, the knitted throws on the furniture. He tried to get a sense of the home’s occupants. It was hard to reconcile the warmth of the place with Hummel’s less than stellar personality.

A clattering and shout from upstairs startled him out of his assessment. That high pitch had to be Hummel’s dulcet tones. Sebastian rolled his eyes and questioned his own sanity. Did he really need to apologize to Hummel? Everything Sebastian had said to him at the Lima Bean had been the truth. Mostly. And he doubted he would get an ‘I’m sorry’ in return. Hummel would probably go and sell the story to the _National Enquirer_ or something.

Yes, he did, he reminded himself. He could not control other people, but he could control himself, and he had been wrong when he attacked Hummel. No matter how much Sebastian hated Hummel’s guts, the kid had not deserved Sebastian laying into him like that.

“Burt, are you in here?” A woman called, and then came into the room. “Oh!” she said. “I didn’t know we had guests. Can I take your coat? Are you here for Kurt, or for Finn?”

Sebastian drew back. “I just dropped in for a minute,” he said. “Sorry for imposing.”

“It’s no trouble,” the woman said. “I’m Carol Hummel. Would you like a drink? We have water, coffee (decaf only, I’m afraid), soda. I could put on a pot of tea if you’d like.”

Carol was surprisingly sweet to end up with a son like Kurt Hummel. Maybe he was adopted. “No, really, I’m good,” he said, smiling down at her. She smiled brighter in return. “Sebastian Smythe,” he said, and offered his hand.

Carol shook it immediately. “It’s good to meet you, Sebastian. Are you the same Sebastian Smythe the boys talk about? Don’t you have those songs on the radio, Our Song, and that one about never getting back together?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sebastian said, and Carol laughed with good cheer and excitement.

“The girls will be jealous,” she said. “You stopping in for a visit absolutely beats Derika’s ‘I saw Jaimie Gelleher in Florida on vacation last year’ story.”

Sebastian smirked. “You want an autograph? Just in case they don’t believe you, of course.”

“Oh, would you?” Carol asked, and Sebastian pulled a pen out of his pocket.

“Do you have something in particular, or just a blank sheet of paper?” he asked.

She grinned. “I have a CD of yours around here somewhere.” She walked over to a bookshelf and sorted through stacks of music and DVDs. “Here it is.” Carol handed him the CD, and he signed it, ‘ _For Carol, one of the few bright spots in these Ohio winters. ~Sebastian Smythe_.’

Carol thanked him twice, and Sebastian, calmer and more relaxed now that he had spoken with someone who did not hate his guts (surely Carol would keep Hummel from ripping his head off), waved her off.

“I’m imposing and uninvited, it’s the least I can do,” he said, and then there were footsteps on the stairs again.

They both looked to the door nearest the stairs. Hummel was standing there, glaring daggers at the signed CD.

“Kurt, honey,” Carol said.

Hummel switched his attention to Sebastian. He said, “What are you doing here?” cold enough for his words to leak icicles.

“Kurt!” Carol said, but Burt appeared from behind Hummel and shook his head at her.

“Come on, Carol, why don’t we go in the kitchen and give the boys a chance to talk,” the Congressman said.

Carol raised a skeptical brow, but followed Burt out of the room. Sebastian felt briefly bereft without her warmth and support, and steeled himself to face Hummel.

Hummel wore skinny jeans and a waistcoat and looked incredibly formal and uncomfortable for a Sunday afternoon. His jaw was set stubbornly, and his eyes were barricaded against all emotion. The silence between them stretched painfully, until Hummel finally broke and walked over to the couch to sit. He wore knee-high boots with three inch heels. Sebastian thought it all a little excessive.

“Why are you here?” Hummel demanded, not looking at him.

Sebastian sat awkwardly in the chair across from him. “I wanted to,” he paused, and sighed. “I wanted to apologize for what I said to you last week. I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”

Hummel jerked and faced him. “What?”

Sebastian swallowed down the urge to say, ‘you heard me the first time,’ and said, “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

Hummel licked his lips. “You’re … sorry,” he said. “Is this a joke? What’s the punch line? Is there a camera crew around, waiting to film your charitable moment?”

“No,” Sebastian said. “I’m being sincere. I know that words don’t mean much, so I went online last night and watched your show choir, and some of the songs you put on Youtube. You’ve got a lot of talent, H-Kurt.” He reached into the case at on the table and pulled out a folder, and offered it to Hummel. Hummel stared at it. “I wrote a letter of recommendation for you. There’re a few copies here. I don’t know if they’ll help you get to New York, but everything I wrote was true, and I left contact information so that they could be verified.” Hummel continued to stare. Sebastian finally set the folder on the table beside his case.

“Are you serious?” Hummel finally said. “You come in here, apologize, and hand me some letters like that makes it better? Like that makes up for what you did?”

“If you don’t want to use the letters, don’t,” Sebastian said, standing. “But you have the option, now. I’ll let myself out.” He buttoned his coat back up, and picked up the leather case. “Goodbye, Kurt. Good luck.”

Hummel said nothing as he left, but Sebastian did hear the rustle of papers as the other boy picked up the folder.

He headed back toward the front door, and found Carol and Burt waiting for him in the hallway. Carol was smiling a watery smile at him, and Burt’s gaze was unreadable.

“What?” Sebastian groused.

“You’re a good kid, Sebastian Smythe,” the Congressman said.

Carol kissed his cheek. “Drive safe, sweetie. Come back any time.”

Uncomfortable with the attention and affection, Sebastian muttered, “Thanks,” and escaped out the door.

* * *

 Sebastian thought about calling Blaine the entire ride back to Columbus. Two things stopped him: what was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry about that fight, you were right, as usual. Forgive me, please.’ Second, he had confessed to being in love with Blaine, and Blaine had not responded. Etiquette, or at least the basic friendship code, probably stated that it was Blaine’s duty to contact him. Sebastian hoped it would be sooner rather than never. He could use someone to talk to after the excruciating experience of having a civil conversation with Kurt Hummel.

It had taken him eight hours to write that letter of recommendation. Hummel was talented. His range was phenomenal, and he had a true gift for tone and quality. Sebastian could admit those things privately inside his own head much easier than he could write down a letter explaining why he thought Kurt Hummel would make a decent contribution to any school. Tone and quality only took you so far. Attitude and work ethic were important, too, and this far, Sebastian had been unimpressed with Hummel’s.

Blaine would have been very helpful in writing the recommendation. He thought Kurt Hummel could walk on water.

Sebastian drove up the long drive to the Columbus house and parked in the back garage, still mulling over his conversation with Hummel. Hummel had neither been grateful for the apology, nor apologized for his own faults, but Sebastian was okay with that. In truth, his own apology probably had as much to do with Sebastian’s conscience as Hummel’s ego. Sebastian felt better now that he had made amends.

After he walked into the house and put away his coat, Sebastian headed toward the kitchen. He planned on getting a cup of coffee from the new machine before heading in to see if Marina was awake. She had been asleep when he had left, but it was almost 3 now, and it was a good time to watch Disney movies and cuddle with her.

Sheila had just put on a fresh pot when Sebastian walked into the kitchen. “Oh, hi Seb,” she said. “How did it go?”

Sebastian wrinkled his nose. “Fine,” he said, in lieu of a diatribe on Hummel’s less than charitable reception. “He took the letter. We’ll see what happens.” He watched impatiently as the coffee dripped down. “We should get a Keurig,” he said, wanting to take his coffee and go. Hopefully a pot would already be made on the mornings he had school.

Sheila finally had her wish. Sebastian was going to commute, at least while Marina still needed him. He had not discussed it with his father or stepmother, but he had moved his things out of his suitcase and into the drawers, and stopped complaining about the renovated bedroom. Sheila, he was startled to realize, understood, and would try to avoid making him feel uncomfortable or put on the spot. Gilbert may not have yet noticed.

 “That’s a good idea,” Sheila said. “I’ll have your father get one tomorrow.” Her tired smile brightened until it became cheerful.

“What?” Sebastian asked, confused by her sudden good humor.

“You said ‘we,’” Sheila said softly. “I’m glad -- I’m just glad, Seb.”

Sebastian was not sure how to respond to that, but Sheila continued before he could figure it out.

“Anyway, Marina woke up about an hour ago, if you want to go in with her. She’s in her room emptying her toy box across the floor to make it look more like home.”

Sebastian smirked. “Sounds like Marina,” he said.

“Especially when your friends are over,” Sheila agreed. “She tends to perk up when entertaining.”

“My friends?” Sebastian asked blankly, wondering absurdly if Anita had come back early from vacation.

Sheila gave him a knowing look. Sebastian stared, then started, and headed toward Marina’s room, coffee forgotten.

He found Marina in her new first floor bedroom. Earlier that day when Sebastian had been in the room, it had been very clean, with all the toys neatly stored in boxes or on shelves. Now, there were blocks scattered at the base of a purple and blue tower, several fat ponies and their accessories parading toward the door, and what looked to be the entire collection of Disney Princess dolls in a pile next to the bed. It eased something in Sebastian’s chest to see the familiar mess, and to see Blaine and Marina in the middle of it all.

Blaine’s hair was a mess of curls, and his jeans were practically painted on blue denim. He looked thinner than he had last week, and Sebastian felt a pang of worry that the added stress of their relationship drama had stacked up with Blaine’s professional problems and lead to too many sleepless nights.

On the rug next to him, Marina was waving a doll around and gesturing with her other hand. She looked the same as she had that morning, and the night before, with her purple cap making the freckles on her skin pop, and the shadows under her eyes deep and drawn. They were cute together, playing with the dolls and talking in furious whispers. Sebastian leaned against the doorframe and watched them for a long time, aching inside, because he loved the two of them more than anything in the world and he might lose them both.

Finally, Marina looked up from her toys and spotted him. “Bas-bas!” she cried, dropping the doll and crawling to her feet so she could go to him. Sebastian bent to scoop her up into his arms. She rested on his hip, her head pressed against his shoulder, and her tiny hands knotted in his shirt.

“Hey Marina,” Sebastian said, pressing the words like kisses on her brow. “What are you doing?”

Marina snuggled close. “Playing dollies,” she said. “We played lots.”

“Lots,” Sebastian repeated, amused.

Marina nodded.

Blaine stood up from floor with more grace than the little girl. “Horsies,” he said, gesturing at the abandoned plastic ponies. “And who-can-build-the-tallest-block-tower. I won,” he added.

“Cheater,” Marina said. “Bab-bas should play with us. I bet his tower would be the tallest.”

“I don’t think height has much to do with tower building,” Blaine said.

“He can reach up so high!” Marina protested. Sebastian turned his laugh into a cough.

“How long have you been here?” Sebastian asked Blaine.

“About an hour,” Blaine said, smiling up at him. “Your stepmother said you would be back soon, so I waited.” He hesitated, then asked, “Can we talk?”

Sebastian clutched Marina closer for a second, and set her down. “You might want to clean this up before your mother sees it,” he said to her, glancing at the mess of toys.

Marina pouted. “I’m still playing,” she pointed out with great aggravation

“Not with all of them. Put those ones away.” Sebastian said, and turned to Blaine. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

“Devon made a mess, too!” Marina said.

“I need to talk to Devon,” Sebastian said. “Just clean up the blocks, okay? When I get back I’ll help with the rest.”

Marina scowled and dropped down next to her ponies. She picked one up and galloped it across the floor. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“I can clean this up, first,” Blaine said, but Sebastian shook his head.

“We’ll get to it later,” Sebastian said, and gestured for Blaine to precede him from the room.

The two were quiet as they headed up to Sebastian’s new bedroom. The room had been redone in cherry wood and navy corduroy, and was filled with overstuffed furniture and a bed that dominated the room. Someone had thoughtfully put in a new television set and filled a bookshelf with boxed sets of _Pretty Little Liars_ , though Sebastian had no idea why. He definitely had never watched a single episode. Blaine saw them and grinned.

“Someone knows you well,” he said, reaching out and running his fingers along the cases.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sebastian said, sitting down on the thick comforter.

“Of course,” Blaine agreed, made to sit next to Sebastian, and hesitated. Sebastian’s heart hurt. Blaine took a deep breath, and sat down beside his friend.

“Nervous, Killer?” Sebastian said, a touch mocking in his own defense.

Blaine said, “Don’t do that,” with his eyes gone dark and sad.

Sebastian rolled his eyes again. Blaine pinched his thigh, and Sebastian yelped, and Blaine giggled. Sebastian flopped back on the bed and watched his friend.

“It’s _your fault_ if this is awkward,” he told Blaine. “You’re the one that hasn’t called in a week.”

Blaine lay on his side facing Sebastian with his head propped up on one fist. He said, “I had a lot to process.”

That was probably true. Sebastian stayed quiet and they looked at each other for a while. He traced the curves and planes of his friend’s face with his eyes, relearning shape and shade. Even with exhaustion chasing every feature, Blaine’s eyes were bright and golden, the same warm light Sebastian dreamed about. As always, the desire to _have_ came over Sebastian, encouraging him to reach out and hold, and as always, he damped it down.

“Why are you here?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine said, “Your stepmother called. She said Marina was-- She said Marina was sick. I bought the ticket as soon as I got off the phone.”

“So this is what, a pity visit?” Sebastian started to withdraw, but Blaine snorted in disbelief and Sebastian stopped.

“Do you really think that?” Blaine asked, his voice hovering between amusement and exasperation.

It was a pretty ridiculous thought. Sebastian said, “Alright, yeah, I know. I wanted to call you. I just couldn’t. Between the fight and the -- that thing I said, I didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me.”

“I’d have come,” Blaine said. “And I’m sorry about the fight. I was upset, and I took it out on you. Kurt and I -- the things he was saying about you, they were awful, and I realized that if he could think those things about someone I cared about, maybe I had never known him at all. And I knew, _I knew_ if I told Kurt he was right, and you had been the monster he was talking about, I could fix it between us. And I knew I would never do that. I took all that out on you, and I’m sorry.”

Sebastian stared at Blaine. “What exactly did you and Hummel talk about?” he asked.

Blaine dropped flat on his back, coloring slightly. “He said you tried to hurt him, that you called him names, and that you made him cry. I, um, I told him that if you had, he probably deserved it, and I was glad we were no longer friends, because it saved me a lot of grief in realizing what kind of asshole he was.”

Stunned, Sebastian said, “I just apologized to Kurt Hummel. I wrote a letter. It was touching.”

“You’re a better person than he is,” Blaine said quietly, and the words hit Sebastian with the weight of freight train.

He said, “God, I love you,” without thinking, without having to think, because Blaine knew.

Blaine went bright red and stuttered, “S-Sebastian!”

Sebastian did, he loved Blaine, with a terrifying intensity that left him breathless and desperate. Blaine had believed him, had stood up for him, thought Sebastian was worth more than the boy Blaine claimed to love. Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled.

Blaine’s gentle hand stroked his hair. “Can we talk about that?”

Sebastian opened his eyes. “Talk about what?” he asked, and then understood. Butterflies and bees and possibly even mosquitoes swarmed his gut. Now _he_ felt hot and flushed. He squirmed nervously. “Oh. Okay.”

Blaine had sat upright, and now hovered over him looking anxious. His cheeks were still blushing red. Slowly and haltingly, he asked, “How -- I don’t -- what do -- What does that even mean?”

Sebastian stared at his friend incredulously. “It means I love you,” he said. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.”

“Yes,” Blaine said, and then more vehemently, “But I don’t understand. You slept with a _lot_ of other guys. You would tell me about them! In detail, and critique them! How could you -- this is coming out wrong. I don’t understand how you could love me and want someone else.”

Sebastian looked at Blaine for a long time, and thought, _I am an idiot_. He sat up and knelt on the bed in front of Blaine, their knees pressed together, and took the other boy’s hands.

“It’s going to sound really cliché,” Sebastian said, squeezing Blaine’s fingers. “But they didn’t actually mean anything. They were just diversions. Sex doesn’t -- I don’t think we view sex the same way. For me, it’s fun.”

Blaine rubbed his thumb along Sebastian’s knuckles, and took a moment to respond. “I don’t see sex that way,” he said. “I only want sex with someone I love.”

“I know,” Sebastian said. “I kind of like how much of a romantic you are.”

Blaine quirked a brow at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, and reached out for the first time in over a week to drag Blaine forward and tuck him into his side. Blaine relaxed into him almost immediately, resting his head on Sebastian’s shoulder and melting into the bend of Sebastian’s body. Treacherous hope flooded Sebastian’s veins.

“I know I love you,” Blaine said, “but I don’t know if I’m in love with you. I’m sorry, I think --” he swallowed. “I need a little more time.”

Hope turned to joy and panic and exaltation and Sebastian could barely find the words to say, “You can have as much time as you need, Killer.”

Blaine said, “Really?” in a low wry voice that was as familiar to Sebastian as his own name.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Blaine said. “Okay.”

They sat together for long minutes, warm and safe and together for the first time in too long. At last, Blaine pulled away.

“I have to go back to L.A.,” he said apologetically. “I’ve got that Christmas charity concert coming up, and I’m not very prepared.” He stood up and stretched.

Sebastian made a face in protest. “You just got here,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Blaine said. “Riley’s going to kill me for running out on him. You should come.”

He had been about to tease Blaine about being whipped, but the invitation took him off guard. “To your Christmas party?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” Blaine nodded. “You were going to go before all this happened. You should bring Marina, and even your parents if you’d like. We can do Christmas morning at my place the next day.”

Sebastian wanted to, of course he did, but there was his sister to think about. He had to be with her this Christmas. Would it be fair to bring her to Los Angeles just so Sebastian could have both her and Blaine on Christmas?

“Think about it,” Blaine said, and kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you when my flight gets in.”

Sebastian was unable to stop himself from touching the place where his friend had kissed him. He said, “Okay,” and watched Blaine walk away.

“Wait!” Sebastian said, jumping up off the bed, realizing that there was something he had forgotten to say.

Blaine turned back to face him. “Bas?”

“There wouldn’t be anyone else,” Sebastian said, coming up close to the other boy. He stared down in Blaine’s bright eyes. “If I had you, I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else. It would just be you.”

The slow smile that spread across Blaine’s face confirmed what Sebastian had suspected, that Blaine was thinking about _them_ and the things Sebastian had told him, and that the words were the right ones.

“Got it,” Blaine said breathlessly, and vanished out the door.

Sebastian flopped back down on his bed, grinning stupidly at the ceiling. He might still have a chance. Blaine still cared. _He might still have a chance_. Those warm eyes and pretty curls and that phenomenal ass might be his, one day. Blaine might be his.

At some point, a knock interrupted his reverie. Sheila poked her head in the room. “Good visit, Seb?” she asked, spotting him happy on the bed.

Sebastian tried to school his features into neutrality. “It went fine,” he said.

Sheila did a much better job of hiding her mirth, but Sebastian could still see her mouth tighten to hold back a grin and her eyes dance. “Good,” Sheila said. “I’ll talk your father into going to L.A. for Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Christmas Eve
> 
> Updated 2/8/14


	18. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly.
> 
> Thank you Gleedimples for betaing! You're awesome!
> 
> Thank you so much for reviewing, responding, reblogging, liking, commenting, or just enjoying.
> 
> This is a couple weeks late, but I swear that the epilogue is already written and will be posted next week.
> 
> And special thanks to Ida for putting up with me while I wrote this thing :)

“Sebastian!”

Blaine hit Sebastian’s chest like he was catapulted there, rising up on his toes to tangle his arms around Sebastian’s neck in an enthusiastic hug. Sebastian caught him by instinct, twisting them a little to bleed off the excess momentum, and held his friend close. It was just after five in California, but it felt so much later after the months spent in Ohio.

“Blaine,” Sebastian returned, cupping the back of Blaine’s head with one hand and wrapping the other around Blaine’s waist.

“You made it,” Blaine said, the grin audible in his voice.

Sebastian squeezed him tighter, locking him a little firmer against his chest. “It wasn’t exactly easy to put this all together; I wasn’t going to waste all that effort.”

Blaine made a disparaging noise. “Riley did everything,” he pointed out, sliding down Sebastian’s body so he stood flat on the floor looking up at Sebastian.

Sebastian kept his pleasure from the motion buried, suddenly aware that Marina, Sheila, and his father were all standing in the garage behind them, waiting to be let in. “Must be why we’re still stuck in the hall, Riley isn’t here to remind you of your manners.”

Blaine looked unimpressed, but stepped out of Sebastian’s embrace. “If you keep that up, you may find yourself without a bed tonight, Smythe. And then you’d be on the couch by the tree, and who knows if Santa would come with you right there. Do you want to be the reason Marina has no presents?”

“Nooo!” Marina shouted, cutting off all the innuendos that had sprung to mind with the loud reminder that there was a child present whose parents would not appreciate the comments.

“I can’t believe people think you’re the nice one,” Sebastian said instead, moving far enough into the room so his family could follow him inside. “Did Riley decorate for you -- no, this is definitely your work.”

Colored lights twinkled along the walls, cheerfully outlining every door. There were garlands along the walls, wreathes and ribbons nestled among them. The house smelled like gingerbread and sweets. Candles molded in Saint Nick’s image dotted the counters, and there were eight reindeer cutouts on the walls.

“Did Macy’s Home Store explode in here?” Sebastian asked, looking at the candy-cane edged dishtowels.

“Be nice,” Blaine admonished. “Come in, everyone. I can’t stick around long, but Bas’s been here before, and he can get you anything you need. The concert starts at 8, and a driver will be around to pick you up at 7:15.” He glanced at Sebastian. “Am I forgetting anything?”

“Get out of here before your manager calls my manager and tells her I’m a bad influence,” Sebastian said.

“She already knows you’re a bad influence, I don’t see why he would have to tell her,” Blaine said. “Alright, I’ll see you guys tonight!” He waved cheerfully at Marina and Sheila, nodded at Gilbert, and swept out the door.

The house practically deflated with his parting, suddenly empty of his energy and passion. Sebastian was used to Blaine being, well, Blaine, eager and optimistic and vibrating with life and cheer, but the rest of the Smythes still looked stunned.

“Are you guys coming in, or not?” Sebastian said. “There’s a guest room just down this hall for you.”

“You girls go ahead,” his father said. “Sebastian, can I talk to you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Sebastian asked. Marina and Sheila skirted around him and left the kitchen.

Gilbert Smythe stepped forward until he was standing next to his son. Sebastian kept his face carefully blank, even as he looked down at his father. When had the other man become so small? They had the same clear green eyes, the same nose, even the same passion, if Sheila was to be believed. When had he outgrown the man?

“That’s Devon?” Gilbert said, and cleared his throat. “He’s the one that’s always getting into trouble with you?”

“No, I get into trouble on my own,” Sebastian sniped, and then reigned in his temper. “He came with me to the hospital, remember? We do a lot of charity work together, and we’re close. He usually ends up bailing me out of trouble.” Not always, of course, but they were not getting into the exceptions.

“He’s Marina’s favorite.”

“ _I’m_ Marina’s favorite,” Sebastian objected.

His father snorted. “You’re her brother. That isn’t the same thing.”

“What would you know of that?”

“I’m her father,” Gilbert said.

Sebastian laughed in his face. “You’re only a father on paper,” he said, ignoring the unnerving memories of Gilbert Smythe carrying Marina away for movies. There were plenty more memories of his father not being around: all those times in the hospital, with Sheila fading more and more every visit, visits to the Columbus house, with Gilbert at work or locked up in his study, two different gigs at the Nationwide Arena and his father had come to neither.

Gilbert said, “It’s better than nothing. But I didn’t want to talk about Marina.”

“Then what the fuck did you want to talk about?” Sebastian demanded. “We don’t talk unless you want to bitch about me, or tell me how another horrible thing is about to ruin my life. Did you want to tell me how useless I am now? Is this really the time? Fuck, and I thought I had bad timing.”

“Will you stop throwing a fit for five seconds and let me finish?” Gilbert snapped. “I just wanted to talk about your damn boyfriend, make sure he was treating you okay. Why do you always jump to the worst possible conclusion?”

About to point out that he would probably be more lenient if his father stopped doing things like threatening him with restraining orders, Sebastian was shocked into silence when the words penetrated, slower than the aggressive tone.

“What?” Sebastian said. “Blaine isn’t my boyfriend.”

The disbelief on Gilbert Smythe’s face was Oscar-worthy. “Seb, there’s only ever been three people who were that happy to see me. Sheila, Marina … and you.”

Sebastian stiffened. “I’ve never --” he started to lie, because things had been very different before the divorce, but his father continued.

“And the only time I’ve ever seen a smile as bright as when you saw him was in my own wedding photos.”

_What?_

“I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into. That he was good for you,” Gilbert finished.

Sebastian was stunned for too many reasons to comprehend, but his father’s supposed compassion was the easiest to deal with.

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Sebastian said. “And it has nothing to do with you, anyway.” He turned and walked away.

* * *

 The guest room across from the master suite had been his for as long as Blaine had owned the place. It had the best mattress he had ever slept on, and glowing stars stenciled on the ceiling because Blaine was a complete dork. Sebastian used it as a barricade before the concert, locking the door behind him and ignoring any questions about where the television was or whether his family could raid the kitchen. He lay flat on the bed for about five minutes after the conversation with Gilbert, then jumped to his feet and paced in furious circles.

His father’s words kept spinning in his head. ‘There’s only ever been three people who were that happy to see me. Sheila, Marina … and you.’

What did that even mean? And that hug -- Blaine was affectionate, yes, but that hug and the press of body on body had been different. Something was different. Blaine was his best friend, the kindest person he knew, and Blaine would not lead him on. Blaine had told him he needed to think. Bright ribbons of hope snaked through him, tangling around his shaking limbs and almost tripping him as he paced.

Devon had kissed him two days earlier, before leaving for L.A. Today, he had thrown himself into Sebastian’s arms like they were in a romantic comedy.

Had Devon had enough time?

Sebastian paced until their car arrived, head whirling with thoughts, and did not even think to get ready until someone pounded on his door.

“Sebastian, are you going to sulk in there all night? We’re leaving!” Gilbert shouted at him.

Sebastian cursed and started stripping out of his travel-worn t-shirt and jeans, and into a dark suit and tie. “I’m almost there,” he said, rubbing his hands futilely through his hair. He found shoes at the bottom of one suitcase, the rest of the contents were upended over the bed, and took a moment to compose himself before striding downstairs.

“Do you want a brush?” Marina said, once she spotted him. She was in Gilbert’s arms wearing a red wig. Sebastian had not even known she owned a wig, much less one that matched the red curls she had lost. It was strange to see her almost, but not quite, as she had been last summer.

“It’s fine,” Sebastian said, smiling at her. “You look like you’re dressed to impress, Superstar. Want to be my date for the night? I bet all the other boys will be jealous.”

Marina considered. “Only if you brush your hair,” she said.

Sebastian laughed. “Deal,” he said, and came close enough to take her from his father.

Gilbert’s hands twitched before he let the little girl go. Sebastian did not look at him, just settled Marina on his hip and said, “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He focused on Marina for the entire ride to the gig, answering her questions and tickling her. He was careful not to look at his father, though he knew Gilbert was looking at him, and only Sheila’s hand on her husband’s leg kept the man from speaking. Sebastian was glad. He did not want to be angry, not tonight, not on Marina’s last Christmas Eve, and at Blaine’s Christmas show. His thoughts from earlier hummed in the back of his head, and Marina fiddled with the buttons on his suit, and Sebastian settled in for the drive.

* * *

Unlike most of Devon’s shows, the charity concert was held in a small music hall, barely big enough for a thousand people. With half the space filled with tables and chairs, leaving only the floor in front of the stage for standing crowds, there were only five hundred people at the show. It was a tiny venue compared to those Blaine normally played, more akin to his early gigs, before he had exploded into stardom.

Even with the small numbers, though, the roar when Blaine took to the stage was deafening.

Sebastian, Marina, Sheila, and Gilbert had a table on the balcony overlooking the stage, in what was most definitely prime seating. They were only a few steps away from a set of stairs that led down to the ground floor not far from the stage, but they were roped off and blocked by a black jacketed security guard. The sound was barely decent, but they were served dinner first and they were close enough to the stage to be able to see the patterns on the opening act’s gold dress. Marina was overjoyed, bouncing from her seat to the railing and back, talking a mile a minute and demanding Sebastian explain the lights and sound and ‘why wasn’t Bas-Bas singing, too, if other people could sing?’

“You are much better than that girl,” Marina proclaimed loudly, then shrieked with delight as Blaine walked out.

Sebastian was glad he wore earplugs.

Blaine picked up his guitar, strummed twice to check if it was in tune, and then launched into ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’ He played the crowd the same way he played his guitar, expertly and playfully. Marina jumped up and down and sang along, and Sebastian relaxed back in his seat and tapped out the rhythm on the table. Devon winked up at them, and Sebastian saluted him with his glass, grinning and filled with light and warmth.

As the final notes died away, Blaine wrapped his hands around the microphone and said, “Merry Christmas Los Angeles!” He wore a maroon velvet jacket with the sleeves rolled back on top of pinstriped slacks. During the enthusiastic applause, Blaine pushed his curls out of his eyes, and smiled sweetly at the crowd. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. I really appreciate everyone here taking the time to make things a little brighter this holiday season. All of tonight’s proceeds are going to CureSearch for Children’s Cancer.” He paused again for the cheers to die down. “I want to thank Nellie Thalon and Kim Nguyen for helping me set this up, my band here ...”

He said more, but Sebastian was startled and stuck on the charity reveal. He glanced at Marina, and then at Sheila. Marina was still bouncing and did not appear to care. Sheila’s eyes had gone wide, and she leaned into her husband’s side. Gilbert wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders and swallowed. Sebastian looked back to the stage. He had not known what charity Blaine had decided upon. Last year, he had given to the American Humane Association.

Devon was smiling up at him, gentle and sweet, as he wound down his speech. Sebastian nodded at him, and Blaine looked back at the crowd.

“Our next song is appropriate for sunny L.A.,” Blaine said.

_“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…”_

Blaine Devon Anderson was such a talented musician and brilliant performer that it was a pleasure to watch him, even when Sebastian was choked up on feelings of gratitude and jittery with hope and nerves. He listened to Christmas carols mixed with Blaine’s own songs, and felt some of the anxiety ebb the longer he heard Devon’s voice. No matter what, they would be okay.

Sebastian pulled Marina back from the wall and into his lap during ‘Not Alone,’ singing the song softly in her ear. She lay back on his chest and sang too --

 _“Baby, you’re not alone_  
 _‘Cause you’re here with me,_  
 _And nothing’s ever gonna bring us down  
_ _‘Cause nothing can keep me from loving you,”_

\-- in her clear young soprano, and Sebastian squeezed her tight.

Marina kissed him when the song was over, slipped off his lap, and ran back to the balcony where she could wrap her hands around the wooden rails and lean over to see Blaine.

Sebastian wiped his eyes with a napkin.

Blaine closed with ‘Silent Night,’ inviting the audience to sing along. His band was quiet behind him, Devon’s keyboard the only accompaniment, and it was eerily beautiful. For the first time that night, the only sound in the hall was the music. Sheila took Sebastian’s hand in hers while they sang, and Sebastian realized, a little bemused, that his father was singing along, Marina tucked against his side.

“Thank you everyone, that was beautiful,” Blaine said, his hands resting on the keyboard. He turned and smiled out at the crowd. “Thank you very much for tonight. It was wonderful to see all of you! If anyone wants to donate more to CureSearch, please visit the station in the foyer where Nellie is set up. Good night, and Merry Christmas!” He left the stage, and the audience started to scream.

The thing about holding a charity concert when you were Devon was that a huge portion of your audience ends up being under fifteen, even with their parents and the media and the two hundred dollar plates. The screaming was high pitched and long, and Sebastian, wearing earplugs and used to screaming thirteen year olds, winced and hoped no camera caught him shrinking back from the sound.

He pulled out his phone and texted Blaine, _‘If you make me listen to this for more than 30 seconds I will put coal in your stocking.’_

Blaine texted back, _‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.’_

_‘Sometimes your nerdiness physically pains me.’_

_‘Says the guy who joined a show choir.’_

_‘Jealous. Are you coming back out here, or what?’_

_‘Maybe if someone stopped texting me, I’d get the chance.’_

“What are you doing?” Sheila asked.

Sebastian stopped grinning at his phone and looked up at her. “I’m telling Blaine not to spend too much time fixing his hair; it’s hopeless, anyway, so he should just quit the suspense and come back onstage.”

Sheila smiled at him.

“What?” Sebastian demanded, and then the volume rose to eardrum-shattering levels and he turned back to the stage to see Blaine and his band coming back on.

 _"My life is a series of actors changing places  
_ _Except there’s no backstage and there’s no place for me.”_

Sebastian picked Marina up and danced with her, moving a little beyond the tables so they would have room. She had been flagging, the late dinner and chocolate mousse dessert not enough to keep her energy up, but she giggled and wrapped her arms around Sebastian’s neck for the dance. There were flashes from cameras and whispers around them. Sebastian pressed Marina’s cheek against his shoulder to hide her face, and danced through ‘I Still Think,’ ‘Silver Bells,’ and would have kept going for the last song except Blaine started talking.

Sebastian turned back to the stage, suddenly thinking of the earlier hug and Sunday’s kiss.

Blaine said, “This is the last song of the evening, guys, and I want to dedicate it to a friend of mine. I’m not always good with words, and he asked me a question and I didn’t have an answer. I have an answer, now. I’m sorry it took so long. Sebastian, this is for you.

 _I like the way you sound in the morning_  
 _We're on the phone and without a warning_  
 _I realize your laugh is the best sound  
_ _I have ever heard_

Sebastian set Marina down on the ground.

This was his song, included as a bonus track on his last album. The words were different, tweaked a little from his own thoughts of Blaine, but it was _his song_. Unconsciously, he took two steps toward the stairs. He could not see Blaine from this angle, so he took another few steps.

 _I like the way that you draw my focus_  
 _I watched you talk, you didn't notice_  
 _I hear the words but all I can think is_  
 _You make everything better_  
 _Every time you smile, I smile  
_ _And every time you shine, I'll shine for you_

 _Whoa, oh, I'm feeling you baby_  
 _Don't be afraid to_  
 _Jump then fall_  
 _Jump then fall into me_  
 _Be there, I'm never gonna leave you_  
 _Say that you wanna be with me too_  
 _I will stay through it all  
_ _So jump then fall_

Sebastian clattered down the stairs on the chorus, jumped over the rope gate, and stepped onto the main floor. There were screams. He did not notice. Someone kept the crowd around the stage from mobbing him, but Sebastian had no time to wonder who, or thank them. He moved until he could see Blaine, until Blaine could see him. Blaine smiled sweetly down at him.

 _Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face_  
 _You got the keys to me_  
 _I love each freckle on your face, oh_  
 _I've never been so wrapped up, honey  
_ _I like the way you're everything I ever wanted_

 _I had time to think it all over_  
 _And all I can say is come closer_  
 _Take a deep breath then jump then fall into me_  
 _‘Cause every time you smile, I smile  
_ _And every time you shine, I'll shine for you_

It was a pain in the ass to move through the crowd toward the stage. People were shouting his name and cameras were blinding him, but Sebastian kept moving. Blaine kept singing. The song echoed strangely in Sebastian’s head, the words almost incomprehensible, but it did not matter. This was Sebastian’s song, he knew every note, every sound, every feeling wrapped up in four chords and a microphone.

Whoa, oh, I'm feeling you baby  
 _Don't be afraid to_  
 _Jump then fall_  
 _Jump then fall into me_  
 _Be there, I'm never gonna leave you_  
 _Say that you wanna be with me too_  
 _I will stay through it all  
_ _So jump then fall_

 _When the bottom drops out fast from under our feet_  
 _I'll catch you, I'll catch you_  
 _And people say things that bring you to your knees_  
 _I'll catch you_  
 _When it hits you so hard and you're so mad you could cry  
_ _I'll hold you through the night until you smile_

Someone opened up the barrier before the stage for him. Sebastian vaulted up on the stage and found himself three steps from Blaine. Blaine was sweaty and nervous. His hands were trembling on his guitar, and his lips were cracked. His eyes were bright, though, brilliant gold and warm and he smiled at Sebastian like the sun.

 _Whoa, oh, I need you baby_  
 _Don't be afraid, please,_  
 _Jump then fall_  
 _Jump then fall into me_  
 _Be there, I'm never gonna leave you_  
 _Say that you wanna be with me too_  
 _I will stay through it all_  
 _So jump then fall_  
 _Jump then fall, baby,  
_ _Jump then fall into me, into me_

Sebastian licked his lips. Blaine dropped the guitar, letting it rest on the strap across his shoulder, and took Sebastian’s hand. He sang quieter, directly to Sebastian, and Sebastian squeezed their joined hands tight.

Every time you smile, I smile  
And every time you shine, I shine  
And every time you're here  
 _Baby I'll show you, I'll show you_  
 _You can jump then fall, jump then fall_  
 _Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah_

Sebastian did not give Blaine time to put down the guitar, or turn off the mike, or close the show. He reached for Blaine, pulled him close, and kissed him.

* * *

 They escaped into the dressing room.

Riley had stopped them backstage, before they were free of the press, stagehands, band, and employees, and told them he would get them when the coast was clear. He would also be sending Sebastian’s family home if he could, and bringing them to the dressing room if he could not. That had been forty minutes ago, and Sebastian was reasonably confident that they had gone home. He was grateful, because that left him alone in a locked room with Blaine, and Blaine wanted him back.

“You are completely nuts,” Sebastian said. He was seated on a couch, with Blaine straddling his lap. He slid his hands into Blaine’s back pockets and decided to stop making out long enough to have a conversation. Rubbing his thumb in small circles on firm flesh, he already regretted it.

Blaine’s eyelashes fluttered, and then he blinked at him. “What?” So close, Sebastian could see how large and dilated Blaine’s pupils were. There was a certain amount of smug satisfaction to the knowledge that he put that look on Devon’s face. He leaned in and kissed Blaine again.

Blaine smiled against his lips. “I’m not the one who kissed me on stage,” he said into the kiss, pressing closer and tangling his hands in Sebastian’s hair. Sebastian shuddered and arched, enjoying the sensation.

“That’s true,” he said, sighing happily. “But I’m not the one who confessed my love on stage in front of five hundred people.”

“I never said love!” Blaine argued, and Sebastian glared at him. Blaine giggled. “I do, though,” he said. “I love you.”

Sebastian kissed him. “Say it again,” he said.

Blaine smiled. “I love you,” he said, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He punctuated each sentence with a pecking kiss. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Sebastian said, squeezing Blaine’s ass and causing the other boy to shift in his lap. “I don’t want you to apologize. You don’t need to apologize. We did all the ‘I’m sorries’ days ago.”

Blaine looked down. “I just feel like I have a lot to make up to you.”

And this was why they had to talk. Sebastian made an unhappy sound in his throat. He wiggled and shifted and dragged them around until Blaine was sideways across his lap, his head tucked under Sebastian’s chin, and Sebastian’s arms were wrapped tight around his waist.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dev,” Sebastian said. “You’ve been under a shit-ton of pressure, lately, and I was supposed to help, not make things worse.”

“You didn’t make things worse!” Blaine objected.

Sebastian laughed. “Of course I did,” he said. “I scared you so much you wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

Blaine said quietly, “I was supposed to help you, too. And I ran, instead.”

“You came back,” Sebastian said. “And you did this -- this whole extravagant confession. You told the entire world how you felt about me.”

“And that makes everything better?” Blaine challenged.

Sebastian thought about years of pining, of loving Blaine and never having him. He thought about Kurt fucking Hummel and Blaine crying on the floor of his room. He thought about Blaine smiling on sunny days and sharing secret hideouts and showing up on his doorstep when Sebastian’s entire world was ending.

“That’s a stupid question,” Sebastian said. “Of course it does.”

Blaine laughed quietly. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess is does.” He tipped his head back and pressed a kiss to Sebastian’s jaw, then another on his cheek, and another on his mouth. “I love you, Sebastian,” he said.

Sebastian kissed him back. “I love you, too, Blaine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Epilogue
> 
> I do not own any of the songs. Not Alone and I Still Think belong to Darren Criss. Jump then Fall belongs to Taylor Swift. Lyrics were tweaked for the purposes of this story.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dolly
> 
> To everyone who's read this from the beginning, and everyone who picked up partway through, and everyone who just gave this a chance last chapter: thank you. You are all amazing and wonderful. For people who've reviewed or commented or liked or reblogged, wow, you guys blow me away with your support. Thank you!
> 
> Gleedimples, you rock. You probably have no idea how much you helped with this. Thank you for everything!

Christmas morning came early. Sebastian and Blaine had arrived home late, having spent hours talking and making out at the gig before Riley told them it was safe to go. They still ended up dodging paparazzi, but there was only so much Riley could do to help them. The response to Blaine’s public confession was unavoidable. When they finally did arrive at Blaine’s house at four a.m., Gilbert was mostly asleep on the couch by the Christmas tree.

“Trouble getting in?” the man had muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes and listing as he tried to stand.

“We’re fine,” Blaine said, before Sebastian could snipe. “You should go to bed, Mr. Smythe.”

Gilbert grunted and left them, and they went to Blaine’s bedroom and curled around each other until morning.

Sebastian woke up because the sun was shining in his eyes. He grumbled and tried to turn away, but something heavy and warm stopped him from moving. Confused, Sebastian opened his eyes enough to see dark curls. That sparked his memory, and he smiled. He wrapped both arms around Blaine, who was still asleep on his chest, and rolled them both over and out of the light. Blaine twitched and blinked sleepily.

“Bas?” he muttered, turning his head into Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian felt like he would break open from the warmth and joy of having Blaine in his arms. He made a low noise to indicate he was more or less awake, and buried his nose in Blaine’s curls.

“Time is it?” Blaine asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Sebastian scrunched up his nose. “No’idea,” he said. “Too early.”

“Izzat sun?” Blaine asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look out the window. “Where’s my phone?”

Unhappy at having to completely wake up, Sebastian whimpered. “B, we didn’t get home until five.”

Blaine had found his phone and was getting out of bed. “We have to get up!” he hissed. “Come on, Bas, move it!” Blaine pushed at Sebastian’s shoulder, and then started grabbing up his clothes.

“My family won’t care about us sleeping together,” Sebastian sighed, dragging a pillow over his face.

“That’s not the problem. Get _up_ , Sebastian!” Blaine dragged the covers off him. “We’ve only got a couple minutes before he calls!”

Through sheer force of will, Blaine dragged Sebastian out of the bedroom and downstairs to the den, where a Christmas tree was practically drowning in presents. Marina, in red pajamas covered in reindeer and a matching cap, was on her stomach staring at the pile with fascination, periodically reaching for one. Every time she did so, Gilbert would say, “No,” not even looking up from his paper, and her face would fall, and she would leave the gifts alone for another few moments.

Gilbert was on the couch, reading the paper and drinking coffee while wrapped in one of cozy throw blankets. Sheila was a few steps away on her cell phone, twisting her red hair around her free fingers. Blaine clutched at Sebastian’s hand, and Sebastian tried to figure out what was going on.

Gilbert spotted them first, and lowered his paper and drink to say, “Merry Christmas, Se--” but he was cut off my Sheila’s sudden shriek.

Sebastian jumped and came completely awake. He whirled to look fully at Sheila, and wished he was still wearing his earplugs. Sheila had sunk to her knees and was shaking. Gilbert was stumbling over the couch and blankets trying to get to her side, and Marina had bolted to her feet.

“Sheila!” Gilbert and Sebastian chorused.

Blaine’s hand on Sebastian’s arm froze him before he could make his way to his stepmother.

“Wait for it,” Blaine whispered.

Sebastian looked down at him, confused and unsure, but Blaine only smiled. It was the proud smile, Blaine’s smile when he did something very good, or very cool, or very well. It was a good smile, and Sebastian had no idea why Blaine was practically vibrating with happiness while Sheila was crying.

He was supposed to be the one who hated his stepmother, not Blaine.

“Thank you,” Sheila finally managed to say into the phone between sobs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Sheila!” Gilbert said, grabbing her shoulders. “What is going on?”

Sheila turned teary eyes to him. “It’s Dr. D’Angelo from Johns Hopkins,” she said. “They say -- they say -- Marina’s been offered a spot in one of their drug trials. Gil, she’s been offered a spot in one of their studies!”

Gilbert’s hands spasmed on her shoulders. He dropped back from her. “What?”

Sebastian stared down at Blaine. “How?” he croaked, ignoring Gilbert and Sheila.

Blaine smiled and kissed his cheek. “My mom is at Johns Hopkins, now. I, I called her this week, once I saw that there were a couple studies there that your family tried to get into, and she pulled some strings. You can’t really tell anyone about how it happened, it might be a little unethical, but she can start treatment as soon as you guys can get her to the Univ--”

Sebastian kissed Blaine hard, and then swept Blaine up in his arms and spun him in a circle before putting him down and kissing him again. “B,” he said. “B, B, B, I love you. I love you. I love you. How did you even -- when did you -- I love you.”

Blaine stood on tiptoes and kissed him softly. “I love you, too, Bas. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Sebastian said, crushing Blaine to him and pressing a hard kiss on the other boy’s mouth. He could see Marina staring at all of them, bemused, and then Sheila was there, practically tossing Marina up in the air so she could hug the little girl. Gilbert came with her, and the three of them held each other.

Sebastian kissed Blaine again, and looked to see his father looking back at him, the man holding his family close. They stared at each other for a long moment, while Sheila sobbed joyful tears against Marina’s reindeer cap, and Blaine stayed quiet in Sebastian’s arms. Then Gilbert reached out a hand.

Blaine’s grip tightened on Sebastian, and then relaxed. He kissed Sebastian’s collarbone, and Sebastian clutched him tighter. Then Sebastian took a step forward, still with Blaine, and another, until his father’s hand closed around his wrist and drew he and Blaine against Marina and Sheila.

Marina had a chance. Blaine loved him.

Sheila got one arm around Sebastian’s waist, and Marina threw herself against Blaine, and Gilbert grabbed for his daughter to keep her from falling, and they all ended up tangled together. It was the first group hug Sebastian could remember.

It felt like home. It felt like family.

It felt like it might be happily ever after.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> also available on tumblr @ thisisforficiswear.tumblr.com


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